Learn to Fly
by AnotherDarnApple
Summary: AU. "They say an angel gets its wings when they accomplish a good deed of great magnitude." "But what about you? Will you get your wings back, Peeta?" "Nope, not me. I'm stuck here with you." Implied K/G but very much K/P.
1. Prologue

**Learn to Fly**

Summary: Five times 'Peeta' was Katniss' Guardian Angel

AU. "They say an angel gets its wings when they accomplish a good deed of great magnitude." "But what about you? Will you get your wings back, Peeta?" "Nope, not me. I'm stuck here with you." Implied K/G but very much K/P.

Genre: Romance/Drama

Chapter Length:

Warnings: Butchered Angel Lore and Lack of Religious Accuracy. Think, Dogma.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with any religion and have taken artistic liberty with the interpretation of angels and any higher beings of the sort. Don't kill me.

* * *

**Prologue**

"You insolent fool." The thundering voice bellowed from above and Peter had never felt as small as he did now. "You have demonstrated your selfishness and utter disregard for life time and time again. When will you ever realize the gravity of your actions?"

"I'm sorry, Father." Was all he could let out, the strength waning from his ethereal body evidence of his misdeeds. He furrowed his wings around his waning form, suddenly feeling cold and powerless.

"No Peter. You are not." The voice held the prospect of judgment and Peter knew that the sentence would not be in his favor. "You fail to learn from your actions and run around amuck like a child. Therefore as your creator and master, I exile you to the Earth of which you have so keenly taken an interest in."

"But Father-" He couldn't help but turn to his surroundings, the pale white and blue so beautiful one would die to see such paradise. He wondered at this moment if this could possibly be the last time he'd see any of this.

"Your words have no meaning to me." His tone was finite, unyielding. "Until you see that true love does not base itself on childish whims and immature displays of power, you will be banished from this Kingdom, never to return until you have paid for your mistakes."

"What must I do to win back your favor?" He pleaded. He was not fond of the saying that mortals had taken such a liking to, but he was aware that he was about to get his very own taste of it.

"I work in mysterious ways." There was foreboding tone to his voice and Peter dare not question him any further. "Now, go!"

With a flash of light, just like that, he was thrown out of the heavens, hurled down into the figurative hellhole that was Earth.

* * *

He opened his eyes to see that he was standing in the middle of what he recognized to be an intersection of road, the only difference being that there was no flow of traffic, and instead, a crowd gathered around where a car had crashed and veered off from the road into a post. His brows furrowed, recognizing the familiar form or rather, what was left of a car he had come to be quite acquainted with after the long rounds of observation he was forced to live through for an eternity. He gulped back, fearing the worst, and as he approached the wreckage, the panicked forms of mortals passing right through him, his fears were confirmed.

In the car laid the limp body of the driver crouched grotesquely over the wheel. He was dead. But that was not what had caught his attention. Beside him in the passenger seat of the car was a woman, heavily injured and breathing what he thought would be her last breaths of mortal life, a bundle clutched tightly in her arms.

He felt moisture against the skin of his face and he reached up with a hand to touch it realizing they were coming from his eyes. _Tears_, _his tears._ This was mortal sadness he was experiencing as he crouched over the woman's lifeless form, regret filling him to the core. But if he could feel just as a mortal could, why couldn't he do anything? His hands passed right through the woman he fought so hard to embrace, wanting to force the life back into her now clouding eyes. The tears would not stop, and he cursed himself inwardly.

'This was cruel.' He thought. 'Too cruel.'

Had he been banished to the Earth to witness the death of the mortal he had come to care for so dearly? Was this his punishment? He looked up at the sky, its brightness now blinding his semi-mortal eyes about to curse the heavens. But a weak voice distracted him from the sin he was about to commit.

In some sort of miracle, her eyes were trained on his. Could she see him? Was it possible that her dwindling life on Earth allowed her to see past the mortal realm and perceive him in his grief for her?

"My baby." was all the woman let out as she held out her hands to him and he frowned as he looked to see that the bundle was in fact, a child. It was so small and so pure it was pain to imagine that it would grow up in a horrible place such as the Earth and in such a short amount of time, die, like all the others.

Peter could vaguely make out the screams of other mortals as they rushed to the scene, trying to pry the doors of the man-made deathtrap that had caused the driver, and possibly quite soon, this woman's death. But he knew they would be too late, and this woman, with the last of her strength cared only for the child in her arms. She would never know that in a realm not of her own, he would watch her, dutifully, day and night. She would never know of his love, or his actions, or the mistakes that inadvertently led to such dire consequences.

He brought a hand to the child's head and he could feel warmth radiating from its skin when everything else was cold and unfeeling. And as he did so, the woman smiled – a most beautiful smile, heart wrenching as it was – before the force left her, her eyes unfocused and lifeless.

The child wailed loudly as if sensing the departure of its mother's life from this world, its cries echoing the feelings inside what he could only describe as his heart. Was that what they called it? Did he actually have one now? That wasn't possible. He was not mortal, nor was he a higher being any longer. What was he?

"There's a baby!" His hearing alerted him to the chaos surrounding him, the mortals now focused on the young life trapped inside the car. Time went slowly in this realm and he had waited ages until the mortals were able to pry a door open to get to the child, only to find its mother and the driver dead.

As they took the child away, an invisible force moved him along with it. He found that he still possessed his wings, smaller, frailer and barely able to lift him in this realm of the mortals, a dull reminder of what he had lost.

The child was what they called an orphan now, with no one to take care of it. He wondered how it would survive in this cruel place. The life these mortals were subjected to was cruel that way and it was a repetitive cycle he had become accustomed to.

The child had stopped crying by the time it was settled on a bed, its eyes still squinting and unable to see. He had observed long enough to find that it was a she, dressed in a frilly pink dress beneath the bundles her mother had wrapped her in and Peter found it ridiculous how important it was to these mortals to distinguish what they called sex and gender. Her hands were wrapped in tiny woolen mittens and Peter had wondered if everything was cold to him because it was cold to the mortals here on Earth. His eyes narrowed at the baby. Were those enough to keep her warm? He silently wished that he could manage to bundle the baby up tighter against the towel the mortals had left her in and no sooner did he start wondering why he felt the need to do even that.

Mortal feelings were confusing.

Peter had always found mortal babies to be horrendous and disgustingly shaped, yet there was something different about this one in her smaller than normal size. When she opened her eyes, immediately focusing on his scrutinizing gaze, he knew. The intense grey of her eyes resembled that of her mother's, and the focused look the child bore as she stared up at him told him that she could see him. _This child could see him_.

And as the child's eyes trained themselves on his form, he became transfixed on the smile that escaped her tiny lips.

There was beauty on Earth after all.

* * *

**Notes: **This is shorter than what I usually write. Well, it's a prologue after all.

I got the idea for this fanfiction while I was rereading my volumes of the manga 'Love Monster' and the night before, I had been watching my old 90s collection of movies and came upon one of my favorites, **Hearts and Souls**.

The tone of this movie very much echoes that of Hearts and Souls, but sort of the other way around. I was also inspired by the movie **Dogma**, if you've heard of it. I recommend you all watch those. They are beautiful.

I'm not sure if this will go anywhere, but leave me a comment if you want me to continue. Also, while you guys are at it, go and check out my other fanfiction, **Music and the Beast**. Chapter 6 is up!

**Read, Review, and Subscribe!**


	2. Chapter 1: The Fall

**Learn to Fly**

Summary: Five times 'Peeta' was Katniss' Guardian Angel

AU. "They say an angel gets its wings when they accomplish a good deed of great magnitude." "But what about you? Will you get your wings back, Peeta?" "Nope, not me. I'm stuck here with you." Implied K/G but very much K/P.

Genre: Romance/Drama

Chapter Length: 5227 words

Warnings: Utterly cute bb Katniss and possibly British Peeta, wtf?

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with any religion and have taken artistic liberty with the interpretation of angels and any higher beings of the sort. Don't kill me.

* * *

Wow, I'm really happy about the overwhelming response this story received from all of you! There are so many of you who've added this story to their alert and favorite list. You guys are awesome, and I really appreciate it all! Not to mention, I've also received some really good reviews and feedback as well, so I'm really happy. Don't be afraid to leave your comments on the reviews once in awhile. I try to get back on all of my reader's input.

Also, a big thanks to my anonymous reviewers whom I couldn't thank personally,** Peetapeetapeeta**,** THGfan**,** Thefallen**,** Tigris**,** KinnaFatniss**,** GIFtoJPG**, and**Cannoli**.

For those who liked the Prologue, I'm glad the premise wasn't received too badly. I know how particular some people are about these kinds of topics, but it seems that the story was well received. In this chapter, to avoid confusion, Peter refers to Peeta, and you'll find out later how he transitions into the name Peeta. Although, I'm sure it's pretty obvious by now. This story will recount five encounters and incidents the angel Peter faces during his stay on Earth. So as such, there will be five chapters besides the prologue and epilogue for a total of seven chapters (hopefully. I might change my mind Ahaha)

Anyway, enjoy the read!

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Fall **

During his short time on Earth so far, Peter had come to understand a few things.

First, although he retained his intangible form, he was very much subject to human-like feelings, emotions, and sensations. That explained the sudden all-consuming grief he had felt not long ago. It was almost too hard to bear. It made him feel weak. It made him feel _imperfect_.

Second, time on Earth passed painstakingly slow. What would have been a snap of a finger in his old home would now feel like eons. It was dreadful for the most part, but he had come to appreciate it. The slower passage of time allowed him much contemplation and observation. And unlike the heavens where he was usually stationed to watch over the mortal world, thousands of places at a time and more than thousands of times in an instant, he could only focus on so little now, limited by the confines of vision and perception he was imposed with.

Third, he was no longer able to communicate with his father and creator, and it pained him so. It was almost unbelievable how these mortal men could hold on to even a semblance of faith in a being they could neither see or talk to and still keep their sanity. He held those that chose to keep that faith in high regard, but was not surprised when others chose not to acknowledge the possible presence of higher powers. Who could blame them? _He_ was a higher being himself, and yet even _he_ was beginning to doubt as well and he had only spent a fraction of the time here on Earth than most mortals do. The Earth was a cold, dark place that he only tolerated as a duty, once upon a time. It was only once that he thought that the Earth held anything worthy of saving and keeping sacred, and yet, even that was lost.

Fourth, his father expected something of him. He just didn't know what. There were rumors and tales of similar cases with beings of his sort being banished into different realms. It had happened to Lucifer, and he showed no signs of regret for what he had done, and thus there were no signs of his possible return. Michael, however, was one who returned to tell the tale of the humans' free will, choice, and compassion, despite his return being initiated by their putting him to death, on a stake no less. Although his journey wasn't banishment in itself. He had volunteered. Things are always different when you are willing. From what Peter had observed in his short time on Earth, there was no such evidence of what Michael had seen and witnessed, and Peter held no hopes of finding it soon. It was possible that Peter would run into one of his own kind during his stay on Earth, but it was unknown to him if he would be aware of it if he had. It troubled him greatly, having to prove himself worthy of his return.

Fifth, he was essentially powerless compared to his previous stature. His wings were now remnants of their former glory, his feathers scaling over and the pliable bones he used to fly, growing brittle. In addition to that, he couldn't even touch a thing. It was probably a precaution set up so as to prevent the punished from meddling with mortal affairs, as so many angels had taken an interest in doing lately. He was one of those angels, the only difference being that he was caught.

Sixth, and the most puzzling of all, was that the only mortal who seemed to notice his presence was the little girl whose mother's death he had paid firsthand witness to upon his arrival on Earth. It was annoying to say the least, when he found he could not distance himself from the child, and what made it worse was that the child seemed to enjoy his tribulation as it squirmed in its bed, smiling up at his form. And still, as the child grew and mortal time passed, the entire arrangement had become more of a trying ordeal than ever.

This was how he had found himself stuck, only a few meters from the bustling toddler who was now being cradled by the latest prospects for her adoptive family. 'Katniss' they called her, and he scoffed at the name. They'd be better off calling her Sagittaria, the much more elegant and regal sounding name for the horrendous plant they chose to name her after, but it wasn't like he could voice out his opinion on anything of that sort. Even in his former stature, his influence was limited, but back then he didn't think it could get much worse.

By mortal time, he assumed it to be two years since the day of his banishment, and since then he had been dragged, along with the child, to numerous orphanages. The child was not aware of all the rejection she had inadvertently faced at each orphanage, no one wanting a baby who stared into a blank space of nothingness and smiled at it incessantly instead of focusing on any possible parents' eyes.

"What is she looking at?" They had always asked, but of course, no one could give them an answer. Peter knew that the girl was transfixed on his invisible form, and he had made it sort of a game to distract her as much as possible, not thinking much of it and particularly enjoying it when he was able to make the child laugh and once even blow a bubble of snot from her nose in her laughter.

All potential parents had thus evidently thought there was something wrong with the child's mind, and of course, this meant that nobody wanted her, but it was only when the child turned three that she began to care.

Katniss was an odd child to the humans that had dealt with her. Even at the age of three, she refused to speak and gave only hints as to what she was feeling with the expressions of her face. This, to the humans, was not enough, and they had tried and tried again to coax her into speaking, but Peter knew better than that and with all the time he had spent observing her, he knew the planes of her face expertly to the point at which he knew what she was thinking even with the slightest hints of the movement of her face.

It was then to his surprise that one day, when the other children at the orphanage had been particularly mean and left Katniss to play by herself at the sandbox, that she spoke up, in complete sentences no less.

"They ignore you too." She said, her voice small and weak from its lack of use. He was startled at her sudden speech, the first time she actually tried to communicate with him instead of merely acknowledging him with her curious gazes.

"You could say that." He spoke, wondering if this child was able to hear him too. "But it is more as if they cannot see me at all."

"That's okay." She said, concentrated now on drawing marks on the sand with a small stick. "I can see you, and you can see me." She smiled. "I'm Katniss."

"I know." Peter answered humoring her sudden outburst of conversation. He decided her voice was pleasant to listen to, so unlike the blabbering mouths of many humans who spoke more than they needed. It was probably because Katniss was a child, but Peter was grateful that she wasn't one for excessive words and was direct with her speech.

She paused from her ministrations with the sand to look up at him expectantly. Was she expecting him to tell her his name as well? He laughed.

"They call me Peter." He spoke softly. It was the first time he had uttered his name on his own accord. Everyone usually just knew who everybody was, and there was no need for introductions where he had come from. It was an odd word coming from his mouth.

"Peeta." She repeated, mispronouncing the simple syllables despite herself. He found it funny that she had inadvertently turned a name that meant 'rock' into one that meant 'bread', but Peter didn't have the patience to correct her and she was probably the only one who would ever call him that anyway, so he let the little error slip past him. "That's a funny name." She laughed, resuming her actions as she drew away on the sand.

"Not much more amusing than yours, little one." He returned. It was actually relieving to have someone to talk to after all this while, be it merely engagin in conversation with the simple mind of this mortal child.

"You talk funny too." She squirmed a little. "It makes me uncomf- uncumfta-" Peter was amused at how she was having difficulty speaking out the word 'uncomfortable.' She gave up and frowned. "I don't like it." She settled for the crude words.

"But what other way should I speak to make you comfortable?" He now teased, expectant of her answer. This child was very amusing indeed.

"Idunno. Like a normal person." She shrugged, obviously displeased with his refusal to conform to her wishes.

"Ah, but you see, I am no normal person." He hesitated for awhile, wondering if he had revealed too much, but when no thundering bellow of anger and flames of sulfur came to extinguish his being, he let himself continue. "I am an angel."

She frowned at him, obviously not believing his words. "That's not right." She pointed at him accusingly. "You don't have wings."

"Well I suppose I _do_ look a normal person to you now. I've hidden my wings, you see." He explained to her, not going into the details of why he had chosen to hide them in the first place. They were hideous little things now – smaller and frailer than they once were and unattractive and unsightly even to him. His feathers had grown dull and they were more of a hindrance than anything when mortals chose to walk right through him. He had gotten used to the feeling, but it had still bothered him knowing he was like nothing to them, and hiding his large pair of wings meant less of a chance of being walked through.

"That's not right either." Her brows furrowed in concentration as she studied him with her honest eyes. "You don't look like a normal person at all."

This surprised Peter. He had always assumed his body had taken the shape of a mortal form of some sort, but this was obviously not the case as the little girl's eyes focused on him intently. His vision was limited to what was in front of him, and he had no reflection. It was as if he was nothing to all things related to man. He had never actually seen himself past what parts of himself his eyes could perceive. But he knew he had arms, and legs, and a body upon his initial appraisal, and they seemed normal to him. "Then exactly what _do_ I look like then?" He asked her, sincerely curious.

She pointed to the drawing she had etched out on the sand. "Like this!" She answer enthusiastically.

Peter examined the picture Katniss had drawn on the ground fixedly, vaguely recognizing a semblance of a face, but obstructed by lines protruding out of it. He lifted a hand to his own face, as if trying to feel out what he looked like to the girl.

"You're bright." She exclaimed, now smiling as she looked up at him. That explained the lines. "Very bright." She squinted slightly and continued. "Sometimes it's _really_ hard to look at you."

He supposed the child hadn't meant for her words to come out the wrong way, but he couldn't help but feel somewhat conscious of her perception of him. _Insecurity –_ yet another imperfect mortal feeling. Why was he hard to look at? Was he as hideous-looking as his own wings? He looked at the girl inquisitively, still trying to decipher what she meant by her words. "Bright? Like the sun?"

She scrunched up her nose in thought and brought a fist to her chin in a gesture" of contemplation. "Nope. It's a different kind of bright." She decided. "But you're _very_ pretty."

This caused Peter to laugh quite sincerely at the child's choice of words. If she described him as _pretty_, there wasn't really very much to worry about, he thought, relaxing more at the revelation. He decided he wanted to know more about how the child saw him. _Vanity_ – the feeling of pride at being praised wasn't so bad if Peter could say so himself. "Do I have _hair_?" He dug for details, wondering if he shared anything in common with the mortals of this realm. "Is it anything like yours?"

Katniss reached her tiny arm to her back to claim the long braid of hair that ran down it, examining it closely. It was brown and she pouted adorably in distaste of it, but Peter saw that it wasn't nearly as bad looking as the child thought it was. She slung her braid to her back before reaching up for Peter, as if to compare his with hers.

Peter lowered his head down hesitantly, not entirely sure if the girl would even be able to touch any part of him, as he had come to find others could not. He found himself closing his eyes, afraid of the answer, but the sudden feeling of her tiny hand on his head jolted him. He could feel her hand. And moreover, she could actually touch him.

She smiled. "I like yours better." She said as she brought up another hand and started running that one through his hair as well. "I think your hair's supposed to be yellow." She started pulling segments of his short hair at different angles. "But I'm not sure. It's too bright." Peter couldn't believe it. Rather than concentrate on her limited ability to describe him, he couldn't take his attention of the actual sensation that he felt at her touch. Her hands were warm, so very warm, and he found himself crouching lower so the girl wouldn't have to tiptoe to reach his head. Soon enough, she was giggling, snapping him out of his reverie.

His eyes met hers at such a proximity he never dared to establish and he was able to stare into the deep pool of grey that bathed her irises once again. He suddenly had an urge to know what his eyes looked like as well. "And my eyes?" He asked, refusing to break the gaze that they both held now.

"They're blue!" She squealed excitedly as she clapped her tiny hands together. Her smile was so wide at finally being able to perceive his eyes. "I couldn't see them before, but now I do! They're blue!" She extended a little finger to his face to brush a stray strand of hair from his eyes, smiling at their color. "And very pretty." She added.

Peter couldn't help but return her smile. '_Blue._' he repeated to himself in his head. He loved the color. It was the color of the sky, and the color that he was surrounded by in the place he once called home. It was second only to the pale orange the sky's tinge would turn into at sunsets, but he guessed _orange_ wasn't exactly an option for eye color.

Their mutual joy at the revelation was short-lived, however, and was broken when an older child from the orphanage threw a ball of mud at Katniss, passing directly through Peter's chest and hitting her, covering her dress in dirt. Peter turned to the intruding child, and then back to Katniss, who was now suppressing tears.

"Stupid Katniss, smiling up at nothing. You look like a _retard_." The boy taunted her, readying another ball of mud to fling. "What's the matter? Too retarded to talk? You suck."

The other children started joining him with his taunts, laughing as Katniss stood in silence, now crying unguardedly. Peter wanted so much to silence the insolent boy, never wanting to hurt anyone or anything as much as he did now. _Anger_ – it boiled in him and he just wished he could protect the girl behind him, or at least be visible to scare the mean children away.

"Crybaby!" The boy was relentless. "Who're you crying for? Mommy?" He flung another ball of mud at her, this time hitting her on the side of her face. "That's right! You don't have one! And you won't _ever_ have one, you crybaby! So just run away!"

And that's what she did. She ran away, clutching the ache that followed the hit. Peter resisted the pull that told him to go after her, wanting so much to maim the child in front of him for his actions, for hurting her and for making her cry. By the time the pull got so strong however, Katniss was out of sight, and panic began to overwhelm his anger.

He finally let himself be pulled, his form almost floating at the invisible force that kept them together and he found her high up in a tree, huddled in its branches closest to the sky above, her hands covering her dirtied face and endless sobs escaping her.

"Katniss." He called, his voice lacking a certain fervor at the sound of her cries. It was almost as if he could feel her sadness, and he clutched a hand to his chest at the sinking feeling that seemed to originate from it. "Katniss, come down."

"Leave me alone!" She shouted, her voice breaking between sobs.

Peter frowned, an internal debate going on in his head. He would climb the tree if he could, but as his hands reached for the bark of it, his fingers slid right through the tangible object. It left him no other choice but to fly up there, but as he gauged the strength of his hidden wings, he doubted he could reach up that high without difficulty, and much less carry the weight of a child with him. But as the feeling in his chest only grew stronger at the child's cries, his determination outweighed his uncertainty as he decidedly unfurled his wings and flew up to the child.

"Katniss." He repeated, his voice strained at the effort it took to keep himself up. His voice was closer to her now, and she looked up to find him floating in air.

"Peeta, your wings!" She said, her mouth now shaped into a perfect 'o' in her surprise. The tearstains on her muddied face drew out feelings from Peter that he had never felt before, and he lifted up his hand to try to rid her face of them, to no avail. He could not touch them, but he could touch her, and he drew comfort in her warmth and as her frown turned into a smile, he knew she would be okay. "They're beautiful, Peeta!"

_Beautiful_. The word echoed in his head. He had laughed off her descriptions of him as pretty, but her words now held so much sincerity it was hard to convince himself that she thought otherwise.

"I doubt they are as beautiful as you think, little one." How could they be? He was struggling to even keep himself afloat at their frailty. He had no time to take heed of her words, he was determined to get her down safely, at any cost. "Now come down with me?"

She looked unsure of his offer as she frowned, obviously unwilling to return to the ground where the mean children awaited her, but Peter's face was pleading, and Katniss gave him a small nod.

He smiled, bracing himself to receive her weight, but somewhere between getting up from her huddled position and supporting herself on a flimsy branch, her foot slid and caught her off balance. Her eyes widened, and the next thing Peter knew, she was falling backwards, plummeting to the ground below.

"No!" He screamed as he darted to catch her falling form, exerting all his energy in the process.

Time seemed to speed up at that moment, despite the nature of this realm, and Peter didn't know if he'd reach her in time. Her tiny form caught on stray branches as she fell and her hands extended out, hoping that one would catch her fall, but none of them did. She reached her hands out further, calling out as she did. "Peeta!"

Her voice was all he needed, and he caught her just moments before she hit the ground, wrapping his arms around her form as tightly as he could, his eyes clenched shut, infinitely thankful that he had caught her just in time.

He loosened his grip on her tiny little frame to see that her eyes were clenched shut as tightly as his had been. He could feel shallow breaths escape her as she writhed in his arms, but when she opened her eyes, relief rushed through him. She looked around, wondering what had happened, obviously bracing herself for impact, but when she found Peter staring at her intently, she smiled.

"You're safe." Peter managed to breathe out, but his relief was cut short when he noticed the large gash on Katniss' forehead which now began bleeding profusely. "Katniss, your head." He let out, immediately regretting his words, because when Katniss reached out for her forehead and felt the moisture that escaped it, the sting of the wound had caused her small smile to contort into a painful grimace.

"Ow." Was all she said as her tears started to flow once again at the sight of blood on her hands, and Peter held her closer against his frame to calm her. He panicked. He wanted so much to treat her, to stop the bleeding. Images of Katniss' mother that he did not want to relive flooded back to his memory and desperation took over. But he could not touch anything but the poor girl in his arms and instead started walking back in the direction of the orphanage.

He stopped at the clearing, able to see children still playing and adults gaily conversing amongst themselves. It would cause a spectacle for them to see an injured Katniss floating towards them, seemingly carried by nothing, and yet they were too far off for Katniss to be seen if he just left her here. He was at a loss as he cradled the crying child in his arms, rocking her in a futile effort to ease the pain.

"Katniss, you're going to have to call out to them. I can't take you any further." he told her softly, holding her tiny hand in his. She shook her head, refusing, tears in her eyes. She had never spoken a word to anyone except him, and it scared her to start now.

"They won't come find me." She tightened her hold on his hand. Her face told him she truly believed they wouldn't, but Peter urged her still.

"They will, Katniss. But they won't come unless you call out to them." His voice was desperate now and he settled her on the ground, prying his hand away from her.

"Peeta?" She asked, her voice full of innocent worry. "Where are you going?" Peter took a step backward, and then another, willing himself invisible. He didn't know if it was possible, but if he didn't leave, there was no way Katniss would call out on her own accord. "Peeta, don't leave me!" She screamed, crying now more than ever. "Don't leave me!"

It seemed to be working because now, Katniss' eyes were unfocused and panicked, and she struggled to sit herself up. "Peeta!" She screamed. "Where are you, Peeta? Don't leave me!"

He still stood there, pain now searing in his chest at her desperate cries. But she couldn't see him as she called out over and over.

"Peeta!"

Someone had finally heard her cries, and a woman Peter didn't recognize from the orphanage ran toward her, others following behind her.

Katniss was still crying desperately when they reached her.

"Oh dear." The woman ran toward her, calming her down and brushing the dirt from her face and body, the wound on her forehead not escaping her attention. "Can you stand up?"

Katniss ignored her and continued to cry, her calls to Peter now dwindling into small mumbles for him. "Peeta."

The woman's eyes were filled with worry. "Oh my, she might have sustained a concussion." She eased her arms around Katniss and gingerly lifted her from the ground. "Let's get her inside."

* * *

It was nightfall when Katniss was settled into her bed, her head bandaged and her other wounds tended to. When the adults asked her what had happened, for the first time ever, she spoke. But instead of incriminating the children that were truly at fault, at the sight of the taunting boy's threatening face, she left out the details and simply told them that she had gone climbing up a tree and fell, earning her a scolding in place of those who truly deserved it.

But Peter didn't have it in him to be mad. He was just relieved she was safe, and guilty he had subjected her to such a traumatizing ordeal. And when he chose to make himself visible to her once again, he didn't blame her for ignoring him, obviously still upset that he had left her. But she was a child, and it would be difficult to explain his actions to her, so he humbled himself instead.

"I am sorry Katniss." He crouched beside her bed so he was at eye level with her. He was glad she didn't turn away from him, but she wasn't speaking to him either. "Will you forgive me?"

She glared at him, but said nothing.

He never thought he'd ever receive a glare from this sweet child, but he had earned it after everything that happened. Inside though, he wished she knew to thank him for saving her life, but he had no right to be selfish after everything that had happened, even before he was banished to Earth.

He turned to leave once more, but Katniss reached out and held him in place. "No." He turned back to see her sitting up in bed, her eyes sad. "Don't leave me again."

He smiled at her and took his place once more beside her. "Do you forgive me, little one? I am so very sorry."

She scrunched her nose up at him before she nodded, a small smile on her face. Peter returned her smile, reveling at how forgiving this child was. "But you have to show me your wings again." She said in a tiny voice, afraid her request was too much and that Peter would leave her.

Of course, it wasn't too much, but Peter felt immensely inadequate with himself after all that transpired this afternoon. He had only ever brought his wings out to get her down from the tree, and in the end, he had caused her more harm than good. "Is there nothing else you wish for?" He asked. Maybe there was something else he could do to earn her forgiveness.

"Please?" Her voice was small and begging.

There was something about the child's face that made her difficult to refuse, and he stepped back to give himself room as he unfurled his wings, turning his face away from her in shame.

"They're even more beautiful than I remember." She whispered as she struggled to get out of bed to approach him. Peter saw this and instead walked toward her, drawing his wings in closer together and keeping her in bed, afraid she would strain herself after the fall. She didn't resist him as he beckoned her not to get up, but sat transfixed at his wings. "I thought it was just a dream." She reached out to touch one of his wings, and a shiver ran down Peter's spine at the foreign sensation. "They really are beautiful, you know?'

Peter shook his head, laughing slightly at the child's shallow joy. "They are hardly as beautiful as they used to be." He turned to look at them himself only for his eyes to widen in surprise.

His wings were a little larger now, a little of their former sheen returning, but still a dull, dirty white and nowhere near as glorious as they once had been. Had they grown? They certainly felt stronger as he flexed them instinctively, and Katniss laughed as her hand felt the movement. Maybe he had done something right. He turned back to Katniss who was smiling so brightly at him, the white of her teeth standing out in contrast to the dark of the night.

"They used to be so much larger, and much more beautiful than you can probably imagine, little one." He told her, enjoying how much attention she was giving him. She hung onto each word he spoke.

"I want wings too." She pouted as she ruffled the feathers of his wings. "Do you know how to get them?" She asked innocently.

He laughed at her naiveté.

"They say an angel gets its wings when they accomplish a good deed of great magnitude." He explained as plainly as he could to the child. "But I've lost mine." His voice held some bitterness in it, but he had surrendered himself to his punishment, knowing fully that what he had done to warrant punishment in the first place was unforgivable. And yet he was given another chance, albeit his home, wings, status and strength taken from him in the process. The opposite of his explanation was also true for angels found being disobedient.

"But what about you? Will you get your old wings back, Peeta?"

"Probably not ever." He answered honestly. He had no idea what he had to do to regain favor in his father's eyes and he wished it were as simple as it had been when he had asked this child for forgiveness. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, little one." The words didn't seem to hurt him as much as he thought they would. If he was going to spend his time here on Earth anyway, he was happy that he would be spending it with this child.

Katniss gave him a sad, but appreciative smile. "I want you to stay with me." She said, placing a tiny hand on his cheek. "But if you need to leave to get your wings back, I guess I don't mind." She put on her bravest face and Peter appreciated her sentiments. She was wiser than most, even at her young age.

"I don't think that will be necessary, little one." The chances of his returning weren't very good, and he sat resigned to his fate with the child in front of him. He was better off getting used to things than trying to escape them. In his mind, he toyed with the prospect of adopting the little nickname the child had given him. 'Peeta.' He said the name repeatedly in his mind, it didn't sound so bad. If she had it in her to turn the rock of an angel into a life-saving piece of bread, then so be it.

He ran a hand through her hair which was now free from its usual braid. She yawned and her eyes began to droop in her tiredness.

"Stay with me?" The child asked tiredly as she lay down to sleep.

Peter withdrew his wings into his back and held the child's hand in his as she drifted into slumber.

"Always."

* * *

**Notes:** Aww, cheesy use of THG quotes is cheesy, isn't it? Ahahaha. I hope some of you got the allusion of the title to Peeta as a fallen angel, the fall Katniss sustained and the impending fall Peeta is yet to experience (*hinthint*). Also, it was just so convenient that the name Peter means 'rock' and Peeta means bread. It's a wonderful metaphor to establish.

I don't think I have plans to include as many of the THG characters in this story as I did in my other story, **Music and the Beast**, but rest assured that some of them _will_ make an appearance in future chapters as needed.

On that note, if you enjoyed this story, go ahead and check out my other story, **Music and the Beast**! It won't disappoint, I promise.

Leave me a review and I'll do my best to update as soon as I can. Your reviews are the fuel to my writing engine!

**Read, Review and Subscribe!**


	3. Chapter 2: Letting Go

**Learn to Fly**

Summary: Five times 'Peeta' was Katniss' Guardian Angel

AU. "They say an angel gets its wings when they accomplish a good deed of great magnitude." "But what about you? Will you get your wings back, Peeta?" "Nope, not me. I'm stuck here with you." Implied K/G but very much K/P.

Genre: Romance/Drama

Chapter Length: 8,718 words

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with any religion and have taken artistic liberty with the interpretation of angels and any higher beings of the sort. Don't kill me.

.

.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, subscribed to and added this story to their favorites! I really appreciate it.

On to the next chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Letting Go**

Peter had stood watch over Katniss the entire night, and as interesting as the child was, there was little to behold as she slept, and it bored him immensely. He knew sleep was a necessity for mortals; it was a dormant state of being which allowed their bodies to regenerate and recuperate lost strength. Peter had found that part of the mortal metabolism wasteful and inefficient. Once, in the past, Peter had wondered out loud why his father hadn't just made it so they could recuperate while actively working and his father returned his inquiry with a laugh. It didn't make sense to him, but he rather regretted that things weren't as simple for him right now.

If it were as simple as closing your eyes and ceasing to be aware of your surroundings to regain strength, Peter would have done it in a figurative heartbeat if it meant the return of his strength and any possibility of returning home, no matter how ridiculous the notion was. But he could not. Even as he closed his now flawed and limited eyes, it was impossible not to sense other things around him. He wondered if his senses were any better than a human's right now or if he was just much too aware of his surroundings – the loud breaths the child beside him was taking, the creaking of the orphanage's old foundation, the slight breeze that made the leaves dance by their petioles – and those were but sounds. He wouldn't get started on how everything in the orphanage _smelled_.

Either way, he was doomed to a restless, sleepless existence. He had dealt with it for eons, but the slow passing of time for three mortal years made it almost unbearable. But as he watched the child beside him smile in her slumber, he wondered if sleep could somehow seem enjoyable for the mortals and so Peter contemplated the possibilities to pass the time. He decided he'd make it a game to find out.

* * *

It was the morning after Katniss' traumatic fall that the woman who had spotted and treated her free of charge had returned. She was a kind woman, patient and tender, as she treated Katniss' wounds and ran cognitive tests to ensure that Katniss had sustained no lasting trauma to the head.

The woman tried her best to make conversation as she did so, asking her what her name was, despite already knowing. She told Katniss about her home and her job as a nurse, and how when she was a child, she wasn't very talkative either.

All the while as she was doing so, Katniss stole glances at Peter, making sure he was there, watching over her. She kicked her feet and smiled widely when Peter had made a particularly funny face, only to hide it abruptly when the woman looked up from her activities to see what the cause of her amusement had been.

The woman seemed to have noticed the frequent glances Katniss was taking at an empty corner of the room, and was well aware that the child was paying little attention to her, but she made no move to question the child and instead smiled at her as she replaced the last of the bandages Katniss was made to wear, lest infection get the best of her. Peter had to hand it to her; she was more patient that most of the adults in the orphanage combined.

As she got up and packed her things, she continued with her one-sided conversation. She smiled when Katniss had allowed her to do her braid and Peter watched, intrigued at this woman's persistence. Once she had fitted a green ribbon to the end of the child's hair, she bid Katniss farewell, ensuring her that the scolding she had gotten from the directors of the orphanage for climbing up a tree and getting herself injured was very much unwarranted.

While nothing else she had said seemed to have the desired effect, the last statement had caught Katniss' attention, knowing that this woman wasn't mad at her like the other adults were, and Peter had noticed.

"You're very brave, you know." That was what the woman had said, giving Katniss an affectionate pat.

The woman had called Katniss brave. Peter mulled over the term. It wasn't exactly what he would use to describe Katniss when she had climbed up the tree. She had in fact done it after _running away_ from some exceptionally mean children; it was more out of cowardice than anything. But of course, this woman knew none of the happenings before the event, and even then, Peter did not have it in him to judge the child for her retreat. She was so badly hurt by the children's words, after all. But as he thought more about it, climbing up a height as lofty as where he had found Katniss was quite a feat indeed, even for an adult. From a different perspective, it was certainly something to be commended for, and he wondered why he hadn't done so earlier.

The woman continued when Katniss didn't reply. "You remind me so much of my husband." She laughed and she was pleasantly surprised when Katniss returned it with a small smile. "He has a knack for climbing trees too, you know? It's probably why we ended up living so near a forest."

"You live near a forest?" Katniss blurted out unexpectedly, surprising the woman. Katniss covered her mouth almost immediately after, seemingly surprised with the outburst as well. Peter let out a bitter laugh. To think he had thought himself special for being the only one the child talked to, only for her to talk to a random stranger only a day after.

After recovering from her initial surprise, the woman just smiled and walked over to the girl, kneeling in front of her and cupping her face tenderly. "Would you like to come see?"

That was how it had started. While most prospective parents had chosen to spend time with the children at the orphanage grounds itself, the woman who called herself Deborah took Katniss to their home regularly with supervision. It was odd for her to do so. Most parents would just point at a child and take them away. Peter had noticed that Deborah, for some reason, wanted to be absolutely sure that Katniss was comfortable with the idea with spending time with her family. Peter scoffed at her insecurity. What orphan _wouldn't_ want to be adopted? He thought to himself. Mortals had it bad enough living through the harsh conditions Earth subjected them to, but growing up alone? He couldn't even imagine for himself despite knowing that it was a common occurrence where mortals were concerned.

He was at least glad that Katniss seemed to be enjoying herself, opening up more as the inevitable approached. Mornings she would spend talking with him about how excited she was for the afternoon when she would get to meet Deborah again, and evenings she would spend telling him about her day despite knowing full well that he was there to witness it all with her. Some days it would annoy him dreadfully, but others he found himself legitimately enjoying as he watched the little girl play in the field Deborah's home included.

It was late in the afternoon one June day that Deborah had finally asked Katniss if she wanted to live with them, and if she wanted to be her daughter, to which Katniss readily agreed.

He never did get to ask her about sleep.

* * *

It had been two years since Deborah and Joseph Everdeen had adopted Katniss. They enjoyed the child immensely and Katniss grew comfortable with the couple as they built the foundations of a family.

It was when Katniss told them about her invisible friend, however, that those foundations were challenged.

It had started when Katniss had shifted from homeschooling to regular schooling, Deborah and Joseph finally being confident enough that Katniss wouldn't just shut herself out and avoid talking to people when they weren't around to initiate conversation.

They were right of course. Katniss was a very sociable child and made friends easily. The teachers took a particular liking to her especially after how keenly she took to class work and recitation. Peter liked to think that he was the cause for her budding popularity, feeding her answers and teaching her things even her own instructors did not know. Whether her friends at school knew it or not, Katniss told him time and time again that she enjoyed _his_ company the most and he was proud of that.

Everything was perfect until one day, one of Katniss' friends had decided, albeit unintentionally, to question Katniss as to why there was an extra setting of play utensils at their tea party every day. Katniss furrowed her brows. She was aware that only she could see Peter, but it annoyed her to be questioned for it. Peter glanced at the child who was now clenching a tiny teacup in her hand tightly. "It's for my friend." She said simply. "His name is Peeta."

Everything would have been fine if the little girl had accepted the explanation and played along, but instead, she stated what was obvious to any child their age. "There's nobody there, silly."

This set Katniss off. "Of course there is!" Katniss returned, slamming her cup onto the table. "It's not my fault you can't see him! Right Peeta?" She turned to him suddenly. The children just watched her in wonder as she addressed the empty seat.

"Katniss, it's fine." Peter tried to assure her, but she was having none of it.

"He's an angel!" She explained further. "That's why you can't see him."

"Well then, why can_ you _see him and _we_ can't?" The girl continued, this time her intentions not as innocent as they were before.

That was an excellent question. Even Peter didn't know the answer for that one, and Katniss was left speechless and on the verge of tears.

"See, everybody? Katniss is a _liar!" _ She pointed at Katniss, calling the attention of the other children. "And lying is _bad._"

Peter felt sorry for the poor child, not being able to affirm her integrity. If he had once been proud of his invisibility allowing him to help Katniss out, he cursed it now for being unable to because of it.

When he couldn't come to her defense outright, one little Delly Cartwright came to Katniss' defense in his stead. "It's okay, Katniss. I don't mind if your imaginary friend sits with us." She smiled sweetly.

Peter's eyes widened. She did _not_ just say that.

He knew Katniss all too well to know that what would've been a comforting statement to most children would be considered an insult to the stubborn child he had been stuck with for years, and instead of appeasing Katniss, it backfired horribly.

In seconds, Katniss was on top of the poor girl, pulling her hair after pushing her off of her seat.

"He's _not_ imaginary!" She repeated over and over as children gathered around to see what was happening. "He's real!"

Poor Delly was in tears, not knowing what Katniss was angry about. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She pleaded, not actually knowing what she was sorry for. Peter ran for Katniss, about to pull her off when her teacher had entered the room and defeated any of his plans to contain Katniss. It wouldn't look right for Katniss to suddenly float away from the girl, so instead, Peter entreated for Katniss to let the girl be, assuring her he was fine, and he didn't mind being called imaginary. Though he had to admit to himself that he _did_ mind – quite a bit.

But that too had backfired, because as the teacher approached the two girls to stop the fight, Katniss shouting "It's not fine!" into thin air was not very reassuring.

In the end, Katniss was forced to transfer schools and receive counseling, something that was apparently unusual for a child so young. Being the kind couple that the Everdeens were, they naturally blamed everything on themselves, recounting to the counselor the countless times they had noticed Katniss' distraction and unusual behavior.

It only made Katniss more disappointed that they didn't believe her either.

The first counseling sessions were terrible. The man in charge of Katniss spoke in a monotone voice and didn't seem concerned about her well being at all. It was all Peter could do to stand beside her as she sat on the seat that was much too large for her, holding her hand and comforting her after being told numerous times that he did not exist and was but a figment of her imagination.

"This Peeta you see isn't real."

"He's real."

"What is he doing now?

"He's holding my hand. Telling me how much of a prick you are."

"Why don't you ask him if we can have a little privacy? Just you and me?"

"He's not going anywhere, and you're still a prick."

The man returned to her parents with findings of an unusually foul mouth for a five-year-old, mental instability, disillusionment and difficulty differentiating fantasy from reality.

It hurt him as much as it hurt her.

At night he would hold the little girl in his arms, comforting her as she cried.

"He keeps telling me to make you go away." She clutched on to him tightly as he did the same. "Don't go away Peeta."

"Don't worry, don't worry, little one. I'm not going anywhere. I can't, remember? Even if I tried." He laughed to himself, trying to assure her, but she just held on tighter to him.

Peter unfurled his wings and let them curtain the girl around his form. This was something he had found himself doing when Katniss felt bouts of sadness from being teased back in the orphanage when Deborah had yet to propose adoption to Katniss. He had long stopped the habit when Katniss was finally happy in her new home and sometimes he'd wish she would just _need_ him more these days. He hadn't thought his wish would come true in the most painful way possible for Katniss. He suddenly thought not being needed was monumentally better than causing Katniss so much grief.

The large wings acted as a barrier between Katniss and the rest of the world and she felt safe in this small haven he had come to provide for her. "You'll stay, won't you?" She yawned as her eyes batted their last few blinks before slumber overtook her

"I won't leave." He assured her, just soon enough for her to hear. "I'll always be here. I'll always be your Peeta. I promise."

When the Everdeens found that instead of progressing, Katniss was keeping to herself more, coming home crying more than anything, they were appalled. They withdrew her from counseling at that particular clinic and took her somewhere else. Peter wondered if that would make a difference.

And so here he was, sitting on the ground between an empty chair and Katniss as she explained to her counselor why her 'imaginary friend' couldn't sit on things. Peter read the name engraved on a plate on his table. _'Cinna Richardson'_.

The counselor seemed to have no qualms about her insistence and explanation and asked her if her friend was comfortable on the floor. Katniss furrowed her brows, turning to Peter. "Are you?"

Peter smiled at her and nodded, giving her tiny hand a squeeze. Cinna didn't take an eye off her as she did so. "He's fine." She told Cinna before scrutinizing the man with her young eyes. Peter shuddered a little as she did so, wondering how such a young child could be so guarded and untrusting.

"That's nice." Cinna turned down to a journal he held and wrote something down. Peter wished he could see what it was, but Katniss held him in his place.

"You don't believe me, either." Katniss said, more of a statement than a question and Cinna looked up from what he was jotting down.

"I'll be honest with you Katniss." He said in a soft sincere voice. "I don't." He paused, gauging her reaction. "But that's because I'm an adult, and I have to _see_ things to believe them."

Katniss nodded. "But Peeta can't be seen."

"No, he can't." Cinna continued. "But there are other ways of showing people instead of insisting, aren't there, Katniss?" He smiled.

Peter was surprised at the man who actually humored the child. He knew a lot about _seeing _and _believing, _and he had to admit that in any other adult's place, he would have never believed Katniss either. But the undertone of Cinna's voice told him it wasn't about Katniss convincing people that her 'Peeta' was real. It was finding a way for her properly vent her feelings out without hurting anybody, even herself. This Cinna, Peter decided, was a wise mortal.

Peter stood all of the sudden as Cinna approached the girl.

"I'm not here to tell you he doesn't exist, if that's what you're worried about." He gave the girl a piece of paper and a pencil. "But you can still try to convince me that he does." Katniss stared at the items she had been given. "What does he look like?" Cinna asked her.

Katniss looked determined to convince Cinna of his existence. "I'm gonna need more colors."

* * *

Katniss was now sitting on a table, irritated and grumpy as she threw what looked to be her twelfth piece of paper into the garbage as she began anew. Cinna watched the child from his desk. They had been at it for three hours.

"Katniss, what's wrong?" Peter asked her worriedly as she scribbled furiously, dulling the tips of multiple crayons.

"I can't do it Peeta!" She told him. Her face was tragic and defeated. "They all just look like stupid scribbles. I can't draw how you look at all." Her little grey eyes were brimming with tears.

"The drawing doesn't have to be perfect, little one." He tried to convince her as he gave her a pat on the head. "It can be a vague as the first time you drew me on the sand that day we first spoke to each other." He smiled at the memory. It was the day he had found out his eyes were blue.

"But it _has_ to be perfect, Peeta!" She insisted. "_You're_ perfect." She threw a crayon to the ground. "The blue isn't right, and I keep getting your hair wrong, and I don't even know how to draw wings." She was thoroughly frustrated now as she clenched her stubby fists tightly.

Peter just swallowed as his eyes furrowed at all the drawings she had thrown away. Things would be so much easier if he had a reflection. Then he could see himself and draw himself _for_ her. "Describe me." He said all of a sudden, as she positioned himself beside the girl, taking her dominant hand in his. "Tell me what I look like, I'll try to help." Peter motioned her hand to take a crayon. "Let's start with my face."

He moved to take a flesh-tone one in her hands when she resisted. "No, your face isn't that color." That surprised him yet again. He had assumed, that like many of the mortals he had seen, that his skin was the same. "It's paler, and brighter. The color isn't here." She said lamely.

Peter thought for awhile before proceeding with letting her choose the crayon. "We'll have to make do with this though. We'll do our best, shall we?" He gave her a sincere smile as he guided her hand to the paper. "Now tell me clearly how I look to you."

After an hour of meticulous bickering on Katniss' part, they had finally come up with a rough sketch of his face and part of his wings. Peter stared at the drawing as if staring at his reflection for the first time. _This_ was how he looked to the girl, albeit some colors here and there unsatisfactory to the child. But Katniss had confirmed herself that he had gotten the lines drawn perfectly as he guided her unskilled hand with his. Peter had experience creating mortals with the supervision of his father, but never in his entire being had he been able to create something as beautiful as what he had just drawn with this girl. It would be vain on his part to admit that he found himself beautiful, but that was all there was to say as he stared fixated at the drawing, running his hand through his own face to connect its three-dimensional planes to the two-dimensional ones of the picture.

His eyes were blue, Katniss had told him before, but she had told them they were a different kind of blue. So his eyes were by far the hardest to complete, alternating from different shades and different pressures of the crayon in her hand. Katniss had told him this was as close as they were going to get, but that his eyes were infinitely better. And his skin – Katniss had told him to make look as if he were glowing, and he tried his best. He certainly _was_ brilliant in the picture. And his hair – as gold as a field of corn ripe for picking but with a sheen that even gold would envy.

His wings were just as he himself had perceived, and he frowned at their lackluster appearance, but this confirmed it – He had to admit, Katniss had a knack for describing things.

And so, Katniss handed the picture to Cinna, forcing a smile on her face. "I tried my best, and he helped, but this was all we could do." And then she ran for the door to her parents.

Peter lingered in the room as he watched Cinna stared in awe at the picture, very much as Peter had done not long ago. It was far better than what any skilled artist could muster up, let alone what he expected a five-year-old child could. He scuffled out of his seat and began digging through the garbage can where Katniss had thrown her other drawings, straightening some of them out and comparing them with the picture in his hands now. They were incomparable.

Peter smiled to himself as he saw a visible shudder run through Cinna's spine. "Seeing is believing, eh, mortal?"

Cinna asked for Katniss to return twice a week for two months before he gave her parents his final assessment, and so it went.

Every day, Cinna would ask Katniss questions about her 'Peeta', some of the answers to them, she didn't know, and when those questions popped up, Peter was glad to be of help answering them. Katniss found these quite enjoyable, as she finally had someone to share with just how much she adored the angel beside her, even though Cinna still probably didn't believe her.

Peter found himself enjoying as well and he found that he had revealed much more to this little girl as she got to know him better with Cinna as a mediator. He was much better than the last counselor that Katniss had gone to. Peter would almost thank the Cinna, if he didn't completely doubt his existence.

Katniss told Cinna how Peter was an angel, and was bound to her exclusively on this Earth. She told him how she could see him ever since she could remember. She told him about that day at the orphanage when she fell from a tree and Peter had broken her fall. She described his wings, and through Peter, she described to the man his old home.

I was like a long-running fairytale to the man, and even if Katniss wasn't telling the truth, he would at least have the pleasure of telling her parents that she had a very vivid imagination.

Cinna jotted notes down non-stop, until a question stopped Katniss and Peter in their tracks. "Can you ask Peeta why he's here, specifically, with you?"

Katniss turned to Peter when he didn't immediately answer as he had done for so many of the other questions the man asked. "I-I. I don't know why I'm here."

"He doesn't know." She repeated lamely.

"But I want to protect you, little one. And that is why I stay." He explained, not wanting to hurt her in anyway. Her presence was a comfort to him just as much as he was to her.

"He protects me." She added, smiling after hearing his words.

Cinna frowned. "Protects you from what?"

"Those children." Peter answered, semblances of anger boiling inside him at the memory of that day.

"People who hurt me, people who call me names. They're bad people." She answered on her own accord, remembering that day and many days that followed and preceded.

"Are those people still here now?" He asked as he wrote things down.

Peter was getting more annoyed at the man who sat so calmly jotting things down on that notebook of his.

"No." She answered.

"They might come back and hurt you again, little one. I shan't leave." Peter actually found himself saying the words unexpectedly, enraged that Katniss hadn't considered the danger.

"But everyone is so nice to me now." She spoke up, catching Cinna's attention when really she was addressing Peter.

Cinna cut her off before she could say anything else to her imaginary friend. "Do you still need Peeta?"

The question was like a jab into Peter's heart, his earlier insecurities of not being needed hitting much too close to home.

Katniss took awhile to answer, and Peter feared for the worst. What if she didn't need him anymore? Would he leave? He had grown attached to the little girl after all these years and he couldn't imagine going back to a time when he couldn't openly make conversation with her. Even if she didn't need him, he was going to stay, he decided. Even if it was more for himself than for her.

"I don't want him to leave." She answered, and Cinna noted that she hadn't actually answered his question, but Peter was content at that. He wouldn't leave. He would stay. Not because Katniss needed him to, but because she wanted him to.

"Okay." was all Cinna said before dismissing the girl and calling her parents in.

Katniss made her way to the door while Peter followed.

"Little one." He whispered, although he didn't actually know why he needed to. It wasn't like anybody could hear him, but it felt appropriate. "Don't look up, he'll know you're talking to me." Katniss just nodes slightly as she listened. "Would you mind if I stayed to hear what he says?" He asked. He was sincerely curious as to what Cinna had up his sleeve. "Don't worry, I'll be right back by your side. I won't leave you."

Katniss gulped as she nodded slightly before walking out the door, and leaning against it, allowing Peter to stay in the room as her parents entered.

"We're making progress." Cinna told her parents with a small smile. Her parents returned with relieved smiles of their own as Cinna continued. "I had initially planned for Katniss to try to prove his existence and come to her own conclusion that he didn't." Cinna explained.

So that was why he had asked her to draw him, only to have it backfire.

"But then I had to change my methods." He continued. "Katniss is a very special child."

Deborah's eyes widened. "So you're saying you _believe_ that she has a little angel friend?"

Peter's brows furrowed. He was _not_ little. All Cinna had to do was show them the picture and they'd be convinced of his existence as well. But he didn't do that.

"I can't say that I do." Cinna started, "But I can't say that I don't either."

This confused Peter just as much as it did the Everdeens.

"Even if her friend isn't real to us, Katniss is convinced that he _is_ to herself – so much so that to her, it _is_ reality. There is little I can do about that, even with medication." Peter scoffed at his words. So he hadn't believed her after all. So much for '_seeing is believing'_.

"So what, Katniss has to end up living her entire life thinking that there's a random person trailing around her everywhere she goes? How will she live? How will people see her? She won't be able to live a normal life at all!" Joseph appealed to Cinna, concerned for his daughter.

The words had struck a chord with Peter. Was he depriving Katniss of a normal life by staying with her?

"I completely understand, Mr. Everdeen." Cinna assured him. "Katniss won't be able to establish normal relationships with people as long as this is so, but I don't think convincing her he isn't real is the solution."

This settled Joseph down. "So what now?"

"A lot of times, children make up imaginary friends because there is a certain _need_ in their lives that they require to be filled." He started, reading from notes on that notebook that Peter despised. "In Katniss' case, I assume the need rose up after her being bullied in the orphanage."

A sob escaped Deborah's lips. She was crying, most likely blaming herself once again, but Cinna continued.

"Most children, after that particular need passes and is addressed, will come to their own conclusions about it and settle their insecurities themselves, removing the need for their 'friend' entirely." Peter didn't like how Cinna used the word 'friend' as if he wasn't real. He was real, and there was no way Cinna would make him leave, even if Katniss didn't need him anymore. "My goal now it to allow Katniss to see for herself that she doesn't need this 'Peeta' anymore – that she is safe, and that she has the ability to deal with her fears by herself, alleviating the need for her 'Peeta'."

"Will this work?" Deborah asked a she dabbed her tears with a handkerchief.

"We'll see. We're making progress after all." He smiled.

Peter wanted to bludgeon the man. Forget thanking him. He would leave when Katniss didn't want him anymore, and the possibility of that happening was thin, and even then, he would stay by her side. 'As what?' his mind asked him. "As her guardian." He answered himself.

When the Everdeens exited, Peter went along with them, falling into his place next to Katniss as he took her little hand in his. Most of the time, Peter would avoid holding Katniss' hands when people were around to avoid drawing attention to the girl whose arm was raised as if it were clasping nothingness. But today, he was possessive of Katniss, and would not let her go. Deborah looked concernedly at Cinna as he shook his head.

The adults continued their conversation outside of the clinic at the parking lot with the Everdeens concernedly asking Cinna about their latest predicament.

They were having a baby.

Peter's eyes widened before he looked to Katniss. She didn't seem to notice the conversation as she stared at some children playing at the playground across the street.

The wind blew strong that day, causing fallen leaves to stir and hanging signs to sway noisily and it was hard to actually make out the rest of the Everdeen's conversation.

They were concerned at how Katniss would take to the new child, knowing full well that she was adopted and that this child was purely their own. Cinna assured them it was a good thing, and it would distract her from her imaginary friend.

Peter hoped it wouldn't, but he didn't have time for much else as the slight noise of something unhinging caught his attention. He looked up to see that he and Katniss were standing directly under the clinic's sign – the large sign that had been blown furiously against the wind and was now plummeting toward them.

He reacted as fast as he could, not caring if people saw the girl being pushed by nothing away from danger, and that's what he did. As the sign came crashing down, Peter pushed her away, the sign going completely through his intangible form in her place.

The adults rushed quickly to Katniss' side, eyes wide at what had just happened.

"Peeta!" Katniss screamed. The Everdeens wasted no time paying any heed to the child's concerns and instead tended to her, embracing her tightly. Peter was glad they hadn't noticed Katniss being pushed by an invisible force. Peter stood up, silently ensuring Katniss he was fine as he reminded her that things of this world could not touch him. He laughed when she just nodded, relieved, and continued to allow her parents to cover her in words of concern.

"Thank God, you're okay." Her mother embraced her tightly.

Peter laughed, he wasn't exactly god, but he accepted the thanks anyway. His laughter stopped when he saw Cinna scrutinizing the pile of broken fiberglass and metal that was once their sign and back at what he saw as the empty space where Peter stood.

"Peeta saved me mom." Katniss said happily, returning the embrace.

"Of course he did, honey. Of course he did. Whatever would we do without him?" Deborah's tone wasn't entirely convinced, but she was just relieved her Katniss was safe.

Cinna's brows were furrowed and frantic as if trying to focus themselves on anything in that empty space of hair. He couldn't see anything.

Had he seen Peter push Katniss away from the falling debris? Peter didn't want to know.

* * *

Katniss' next session with Cinna was an unusual one.

"No questions today?" She asked innocently, swinging her legs back and forth.

Cinna just frowned into clasped hands, not staring at Katniss, but rather the empty space beside her. Just a few inches to the left, Peter thought, and Cinna would be staring directly into his eyes. "No, no questions."

So Katniss sat uncomfortably for a good thirty minutes before Cinna finally spoke up.

"Katniss?" He asked, somewhat unsure of how he would put what he was about to say. "This is an odd request, but would you allow me to talk to Peeta alone?"

Katniss' eyes just widened before turning to Peter, asking with just the expression of her eyes if Peter would allow it.

He furrowed his brows in response, not knowing what this man was planning. How did he intend on having a conversation if the only medium between them wasn't even in the room?

"I would just like to say a few things to him, if you don't mind." Cinna continued.

Katniss pulled on Peter's hand, as if seeking his permission. Peter nodded.

"Okay." Katniss replied uncertainly a she exited the room, leaving it perceivably empty. "Take care, okay Peeta?"

Peter stood now, face to face with Cinna's unfocused eyes.

"This is ridiculous – me talking to thin air." Cinna laughed at himself as he started, running a hand through his hair, surprised with himself at what he was doing. "Not to offend you or anything, but that's what I see."

Peter snorted, not even bothering to answer. It _was_ ridiculous, watching this man talking to a spot that wasn't even where Peter was standing.

"I can't see you, but I saw what happened yesterday."

Peter had thought just as much.

"It was hard to believe at first. I had tried to convince myself that my mind was playing tricks on me." Cinna paced around the room nervously. "But Katniss was standing right _under_ that sign. Then only milliseconds after, she drifted through the air and landed a good meter or two away from it. Katniss couldn't have gone that far on her own, and she wasn't even looking at the sign. It's not possible for her to have come out of that unscathed."

Of course it wasn't. Peter had been the one who had caught sight of the falling sign just in time to push Katniss out of the way. He said he would protect her, and that was what he did.

"And then I looked at her drawing again." He took out the piece of paper. "This is you, isn't it?" He asked. "It's far too real for it not to be."

Peter sighed. What was this man even doing? What did he hope to achieve by addressing someone he didn't even believe existed just days before.

"I saw her little outburst of conversation with you, frustrated with colors and shapes and her unsteady hands. She seemed genuinely disappointed in her inability to draw you, and at first I had thought it was because _there was no you_." He paused.

"But then I saw _this_. And it was so unlike any of her previous drawings. I checked."

Yes, and Peter had checked him, checking them. "Move on, already, mortal." He found himself saying, but of course, he wasn't heard.

"You helped her draw this. That must be why."

'It was, now hurry up and get on with it.'

"If Katniss were here, she'd be telling me 'I told you so.'" He laughed. "But I needed to talk to you without her, despite not knowing if you're even here or listening to me."

Peter _was_ there, and regrettably, he _was_ listening. He had actually wanted the man to say sorry for not believing, or at least thank him on Katniss' behalf on the save. The dialogue, or rather monologue Cinna was having with himself was starting to get old, but his next words surprised Peter.

"You need to let the girl go."

Peter hadn't expected him to say that.

"In most movies I've seen, people usually approach these things with exorcism or voodoo or crap like that." Cinna continued. It would have made Peter laugh, him bringing up all the rather stupid practices humans did to make themselves feel safe, but he was _not_ a demon and he would _never _hurt Katniss. So instead, he crossed his arms, waiting for Cinna to make his next point. He had no right to tell her to leave. "But it's obvious you're not one of those." At least he knew. "You obviously care for the child. Why else would you save her?"

He did. He did care for the child, and that was the reason he was _staying_.

"But you still need to let her go."

Peter wished nothing more right now than to actually be able to _speak_ to the man, or at least club him into realizing that he was _never_ going to leave the child. He had promised her.

"I don't know if you agree or not." Peter didn't. "And if I were you, I'd take some convincing as well. Katniss is not someone I would give up easily either if I were in your place."

"So convince me, mortal." was all Peter said.

"Katniss is a child, and your presence might not affect her relationships with children much right now, but as she grows, it'll just become much more difficult for her to cope. As twisted as this society may be to you, its opinions and standards will have a hard time accepting her and at the same time she'll have a harder time developing her own opinions if she has to deal with you in addition to the trying judgment this world has to offer. You've influenced her a lot as it is, I see that in the way she's so cynical and untrusting. I'm guessing that's because that's how _you_ are as well. It's hard to understand, but please try to."

His words hit Peter like a bag of rocks. His mind brought him back to the conversation Cinna had with her parents not long ago, and it had been his biggest fear since then that he would be depriving Katniss of a normal life by his presence. All this while he had been trying to convince himself that it wasn't so, but with the man in front of him expressing it so clearly and logically was unnerving. He wanted to get out of the room, to not listen to the rest that he had to say, but he couldn't even get past the door that separated him and Katniss.

Cinna continued.

"What do you think it's going to be like when Katniss is older and starts making friends that don't take well to having, for lack of a better term, _imaginary _ones? I believe her now, but that doesn't mean everybody will. And even if she does manage to convince a few, she won't be able to convince _all_ of them. Would you rather have Katniss deny your existence to everybody she meets?"

Peter's chest tightened at the words. The thought of Katniss having to pretend he wasn't there in front of people who didn't understand just to be accepted pained him.

"And what happens when she starts becoming more aware of the world, let's say when she goes on her first date. Will she be able to be herself around him? Fully enjoy it? You'll be there watching, and it will be like she's being judged for every action she takes. You'll be a burden to her."

"I would never judge her!" Peter found himself screaming now. If Cinna could see just how much of a mess he was making the angel who now knelt crumpled on the floor, clutching the part in his chest which now ached horribly.

"What happens when she gets married?" Peter tried to cover his ears. "What happens when she has children? She won't be able to give them her full attention if half of her is focused on you." Cinna looked genuinely concerned. Whether his concern was for Peter, Katniss, or both, he didn't know. All that Peter knew was that he was right. "She would never be able to have a proper relationship with _anyone_ as long as you stay with her." Cinna's words drove themselves deeper into Peter's psyche. "And she's going to have a _sister_ soon, Peeta. You need to think about Katniss, and her future."

Cinna was right. Absolutely right. Peter would never fit in right in this world of mortals. He wouldn't fit into Katniss' life either. He was depriving her of what little joy she could attain in this cold cruel world because of his own selfishness. He was _terrible._

"Katniss _adores_ you, _loves _you, _and treasures _you _so much_. You were first friend, and you're her _best_ friend. You saved her life twice." Cinna's voice was soft and pleading. "But I beg you. If you truly care for her as much as she says you do, you need to _let her go_."

Cinna stopped, as if giving Peter time to process the words.

This was worse than when he had thought Katniss' didn't need him. Much worse. Because not only did she not need him, she would be better off without him.

When Katniss, entered the room, Peter had willed himself to look stoic and unaffected, although everything Cinna had told him was killing him inside.

Katniss asked him what they had talked about, but he didn't answer. Katniss didn't pry and instead took his hand in her little one, smiling up at him. "Everything's gonna be fine Peeta."

He sincerely hoped it would be.

* * *

That night, Deborah and Joseph Everdeen told little Katniss she was going to be a sister. They had braced themselves for the worst, a possible tantrum or Katniss probably not caring at all, but they had been wrong.

Katniss took to the idea immediately, her eyes shining as she asked her mother when it would come, and when Deborah answered that it was already here, Katniss eyes shined in wonder when her mother told her the baby was in her belly. Katniss was a very kind child, Peter mused. It was one of the things he had grown to like about the mortal, and one of the things that made it so hard to think of leaving her.

But as he watched Katniss embark on a new part of her life, he decided, more firmly than ever, that he just did not fit into it. Not then, not now, and not in her future. Watching Katniss caress the subtle curve of her mother's belly had helped Peter come to terms with what he was going to do. It prepared him for it, and he was going to do it tonight.

There was no use prolonging the inevitable, and if he was going to hurt the girl by breaking his promise, it would be better she not get more attached than she already was. Of course, he never did intend to break his promise. He wouldn't leave her. Technically, he couldn't leave her. Not really. He'd always be watching, because that was his only purpose in this realm now. He was hers completely, whether she knew it or not. He was _her_ 'Peeta' and he always would be. He wouldn't leave her, but he couldn't stay either. So he would disappear from her sight, and hopefully she would forget. A small part of Peter wished however that she wouldn't.

Peter had rehearsed the entire thing in his head. When Katniss went to bed that night, without fail, she asked to see his wings. It had become a ritual of theirs ever since her counseling started, and he complied. He unfurled them and let the little girl play with his feathers, laughing at her tickling touch despite knowing what he was about to do next.

"Remember when you said you would let me go if I could get my wings back?" He asked her, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Katniss frowned, as if sensing what was about to happen. She didn't answer, and instead focused on a particularly rough patch of feathers on his left wing.

"I found out how I can get them back." He said, steadying his tone. It was a lie, he knew, but it had to be done. All those years, he had considered humans such hypocrites for preaching that lies were bad and yet continuing to lie on a daily basis. He had scoffed at their hypocrisy, but only now did he understand it. Lies were bad if they hurt people, and Peter had no intention of doing that. This lie was to help Katniss, not hurt her.

Katniss eyes shot up at him. "How?" She asked, almost excited, but fearing what he would answer.

"I can't tell you." He answered, hoping she would accept. And she nodded. "But I need to leave tonight if I am ever to get them back."

Katniss didn't say anything. It was as if she knew it was coming, and she probably did. She was a wise child after all.

"Is this because of Cinna?" She asked innocently.

No, not really. The thought had been on his mind long before he had spoken to Cinna. Cinna had just made it clear to him how necessary this was. "No, child. It isn't."

"Is it because of the baby?" She continued, her eyes now very, very, sad.

Partially, yes. "No, child. It isn't."

"Is it because of me?"

Peter had difficulty taming the searing pain that now shot through his chest at her words. Yes, it was. But he would never tell her that. "No, it isn't, Katniss. Of course it isn't."

Katniss was in tears now. "I want you to get your wings back." She said through sobs. "But I don't want you to leave."

Neither did he, but it was for her own good.

"You promised you'd never leave. You said you'd always be my Peeta." She cried, clutching on to him. Everything she did was making it harder for him to let go, and he slowly felt his resolve starting to break. He gently pried her hands off him before his resolve disappeared completely.

"And I shan't ever leave, Katniss. Not really. I'll always be with you, and I'll always be your Peeta." He assured her. This, unlike everything else he had said to her that night, was the truth. He wouldn't leave her. He would merely disappear from her sight, allowing her to live the life she was supposed to live. "But if I am ever to become the angel you always thought me to be, despite my weaknesses, I need to leave now, and it would greatly please me if I had your blessing."

Katniss sat silent.

He needed her to tell him to go, otherwise, he wasn't sure if he could do it. He needed to hear her tell him that she was okay.

"Please, Katniss. It is one of the things I need to get my wings back." Another lie, a selfish one at that. When had he stooped so low?

"Will you show me your wings when you get them back?" She asked, her eyes sincere in her question.

He knew that the answer was no, but if it made the child in front of him feel better, he would lie until his tongue was cut off. "Yes, child. I promise you I will." This was his biggest lie yet, and one that would certainly come back to haunt him.

Katniss embraced him as tightly as her little five-year-old frame could. "Take care, okay Peeta? Don't get hurt. I'll always be waiting for you to come back. And you'll be so beautiful when you do." Katniss was still crying, but now she was smiling at the same time, sincerely happy for the angel who held her in his arms.

It was torture, having to lie, but her words solidified Peter's resolve. He was doing this for her, even if it meant never being able to talk to her, or console, her, or to hold her like this ever again. Suddenly, he felt as if he had taken everything for granted, and he wished he could allow himself to hold her for just a little while longer. But he knew that if he did, he would never be able to let go.

"I need to leave now, Katniss." Katniss got off him as he stood up. He looked at her and her beautiful eyes. This would be the last time they would look directly at him, and he couldn't help but admire, once again, the beautiful shade of grey that met his blue.

He took a step back, as he withdrew his wings and Katniss stood, unmoving as she watched him slowly fade away, willing himself invisible.

As the last few traces of him slept away, Katniss suddenly ran to him. "I won't forget you Peeta! Come back, okay?" She shouted after him, but as she ran for an embrace, he was gone, and she was met with air. "You'll always be my Peeta." She sat on the floor of her room which was now cold and empty.

She would not allow herself to cry, Peter noticed from his spot, now invisible to the girl who called out to him. Instead, she got into bed and embraced one of her many stuffed animals tightly, willing herself to go to sleep, but failing.

He appreciated her genuine selflessness, despite what he had told her being a lie. He felt horrible for lying to someone who would willingly allow themselves to get hurt for the benefit of another, and he somehow wished that what he said was the truth, and that he _could_ get his wings back, at least to show her that her pain right now would not be for nothing. But it wasn't for nothing. This was for her, and for her future, and although she was convinced now that Peter had left her, he never would.

After all this, the selfish side of him hoped she would do well on her promise to never forget him, although she would _need _to for his actions to count for anything.

But even if she did forget, he would always be _her Peeta_, and nothing else.

He watched her sleep that night, not as peaceful as all the other nights when he had done the same thing.

Come to think of it, he never did get to ask her about sleep.

And now, he never would.

* * *

**Notes:** Poor Peter. There's not much that I can say about this chapter. It basically just wrote itself, though I had trouble getting Cinna's character as the psychiatrist/counselor down right.

And yay! Katniss finally has a family and Prim is well on her way. Do you wonder what happens to Peeta/Peter? Stay tuned for the next chapter, and if you're craving for more, go ahead and check out my other story, **Music and the Beast**.

Thanks for reading! **Review and Subscribe! **

Every review gives one of Peter's feathers its luster back!


	4. Chapter 3: Dreams

**Learn to Fly**

Summary: Five times 'Peeta' was Katniss' Guardian Angel

AU. "They say an angel gets its wings when they accomplish a good deed of great magnitude." "But what about you? Will you get your wings back, Peeta?" "Nope, not me. I'm stuck here with you." Implied K/G but very much K/P.

Genre: Romance/Drama

Chapter Length: 8,994 words

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with any religion and have taken artistic liberty with the interpretation of angels and any higher beings of the sort. Don't kill me.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, subscribed to and added this story to their favorites! I really appreciate it.

Hope y'all enjoy! On to the next chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Dreams**

It was ironic that immediately after Peter told Katniss the blatant lie that was regaining his wings after disappearing, he found upon re-inspection of himself under the veil of invisibility that his wings had indeed regained some of their strength, although they were still nothing close to what they had once been.

It was all Peter could do to resist the temptation of immediately revealing himself to Katniss, his wings even just a little better than they were before, just so he wouldn't have to live with what he was seeing now.

Every night, even months after his abrupt departure, despite having carried on better than he would have ever imagined without him, Katniss was plagued restless sleep, tossing and turning violently in her slumber.

If he had once wondered if sleep could somehow be enjoyable to humans, now he wondered even more if it could be equally as painful. That was what it looked like right now - Katniss was in pain.

He winced at the possibility that he was the cause of it.

The days after he left, Katniss had continued seeing Cinna. Initially she had lied about his leaving, insisting her Peeta's still lingering presence. But it didn't take Cinna long to realize the child was lying before confronting her about it.

That day, Peter watched as Katniss broke down in sobs at being discovered, finally letting his departure be known to the only other person who knew about his true nature. Cinna was generous with his sessions after that, and their routines quickly shifted from activities centered on 'imaginary friends' to activities to cope with the loss of a loved one and Cinna knew better than to inform her parents of his sudden change in counseling. Peter couldn't have been more thankful for the man.

The activities helped Katniss for the most part, finally being able to make Katniss accept that her Peeta was no longer there, much to Peter's discomfort, but he knew that it was for the best if Katniss stood any chance of living a normal life. This was what he had to deal with if he wanted Katniss to live the life mortals were supposed to.

Cinna encouraged her to make new friends on the basis that her Peeta would not have wanted her to suffer in his absence. He was right, and as Katniss slowly grew accustomed to his absence, Peter found comfort in the new friends she made and how happy she was, even without him.

But at nights, he wondered if it was even worth it, because no matter how talented Cinna was at any type of emotional therapy, there was no way it would help the writhing girl who tossed and turned in her sleep.

Peter had endured watching Katniss' restless slumber for an unbearably long time each night, only for her to wake up and force herself to move on from whatever her slumber had done to her. If he only knew what went on in the complex workings of a mortal's mind in their slumber, he could possibly do something to alleviate whatever discomfort the child was feeling. But of course, he knew nothing, and it was excruciating to bear.

One day, the sight became unbearable and Peter just couldn't take it anymore. As the little girl turned in her sleep, he allowed himself the guilty pleasure of tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. He hoped that if she sensed his presence, it might in some way wipe the pain away. The child did not stir, and Peter was relieved. Despite his being invisible, he could still feel the warmth of the child's skin and after months of the loss of contact he had grown so accustomed to, it was a welcome feeling.

But that was not all that the angel felt. As the warmth of her skin melded itself into his own, it was mixed with feelings he could not understand. Feelings that seemed almost too real, but unlike his own. He furrowed his brow. He inched his hand away from the child's face and immediately the feelings departed. 'How curious.' He thought, examining the child yet again before daring to allow himself another touch.

This time, he trained his eyes to Katniss' pained face and focused, allowing his fingers to fall just close enough for their skin to touch. The feelings had once again returned, but something more resurfaced as he concentrated on isolating their nature. Slowly, images began to form, mixing in what he felt from the child and what his now imperfect eyes perceived of the surrounding world.. They were blurry and unfocused, but what he did manage to make out, unobstructed by the distractions that his eyes still managed to pick out, were the faint sobs he had become quite accustomed to.

'Were these Katniss' feelings?" He thought. He really wanted to know. If there was any chance of him being able to once again bring comfort to the girl like he once had, it would have to start with knowing where her pain originated from.

Still unable to decipher what the child's feelings were trying to tell him and even more distracted by the relentless sound of her sobs, he closed his eyes, striving to shut the rest of the world out as he tried to make sense of the imagery, not once allowing his touch to drift from the child.

And after a few minutes, for the first time in his being, he experienced what he thought to be impossible. _He _slept. And not only that –

_He dreamed._

He hadn't thought it was possible for a non-mortal to subject itself to the mystery that was human sleep. But it wasn't sleep, technically. Peter was very much aware of everything going on around him much unlike the unconscious dormancy that humans often underwent. But right now he wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing, because in his state of awareness, his eyes suddenly focused on the feeble form of a girl in tears, surrounded by darkness.

'_Katniss_.' He thought. The form in front of him looked undeniably real. Where was he? Was this what humans saw in their sleep? Was this what _Katniss _saw every night? He feared for the girl.

If this was what he had been experiencing in her sleep, it was no wonder she turned restlessly every night.

This was what they called a dream. But it wasn't just that, he realized by the dark atmosphere that overwhelmed his surroundings. It was a _nightmare_. _Her _nightmare – a nightmare she had to deal with every night since he had left. Peter felt an immense weight in his chest. What had he done?

'Get up.' He thought. 'Why are you in the darkness?' He felt like he should approach her, but his earlier resolve was like shackles on his feet that stopped him. He had promised himself to let the child live without him and his interventions. Could he turn his back on all of that now?

A sudden cry broke him out of his internal debate. "Peeta." It was small, and weak and pleading. "It's so cold. Where are you?"

That was all it took for Peter to break, releasing himself from his willed invisibility even in the child's dreams. He ran toward her and shielded her from the darkness as he unfurled her wings. His sudden visible presence emitted an intense beam of bright light that pierced through the all-consuming darkness and shattering it to pieces.

_White._

_It was all white._

That was what he first observed in the drastic change of scenery. And in his arms, no longer plagued by the dark aura of loneliness and sadness, Katniss stared up at him, her face unbelieving with the most unadulterated smile of happiness breaking through her features. "You came back. And you're beautiful, Peeta." Her tiny arms tried their hardest to engulf his frame, the rigor in her embrace a testimony to just how much she had missed the celestial being, and Peter couldn't but return it, despite knowing his wings weren't as beautiful as she had thought.

It was a small flurry of feathers that alerted him otherwise, for this flurry of feathers was certainly as close as it could get to what his old ones had looked like – an iridescent fractal rainbow of color, blindingly bright and exceedingly beautiful.

He turned back to see that his wings spread far and above his form, their strength suddenly back to their former state.

'Was this what the human mind was capable of?' Peter flexed his wings instinctively, reveling at their lightness in stark contrast to the imperfect brittleness he had become accustomed to. The warmth of a small hand on his wings brought him back.

"You're staying right? Now that your wings are back you're staying. Forever, right?" The child looked up at him, the grey of her eyes piercing, haunting and as all-consuming as the light they were bathed in at the moment.

Peter didn't know what had gotten over him, but in the heat of the moment he took the young girl in his arms and held her. "Forever."

_And then he woke up._

There he was, back in the same room, the small tinges of orange light signaling the early beginnings of a new day. He looked to his arms to see that they were empty, and a single finger trained only a millimeter from the stirring child's face.

'It was only a dream', he thought to himself disappointedly. He unfurled his wings and soon enough, they were back to a dull dirty white, small, weak, frail, and _nothing_ compared to what they had been. Even for just moments in his state of figurative slumber.

But as his eyes caught a shadow of a smile on the child's face as she began to stir, Peter knew that even that short while was worth it. _For both of them._

Katniss woke up that day, better rested than she ever had been in a long time. The look of disappointment she wore at the sight of the empty room with her Peeta nowhere in sight bothered her. But her face told Peter that there was only acceptance for what had to inevitably occur, and gratitude for the small grain of bliss she was allowed to have. She stretched her arms comfortably and smiled, the lingering thoughts of her dream driving her through her day.

Peter was the same. He wasn't entirely sure where the line between the workings of his mind and that of Katniss' own was drawn in the world of dreams, or if the return of his wings had been imagined by Katniss or even by himself, but he knew now the intricacies and possibilities that sleep and dreaming afforded people – be them good or bad.

He rightfully reveled in his father's work, and now he had understood why he allowed humans such a privilege. It was a chance to live past their realm and experience things past the capabilities of the three dimensions they were limited to. In a dream, anything was possible, and for Peter this was like a string of hope that he chose to cling onto for dear life, not only for his sake but for Katniss' as well.

This was how Peter spent the rest of his nights, visiting Katniss' dreams and making sure she was tended to and happy, even if it was only in the inner workings of her mind.

Needless to say, Katniss never had a bad dream or nightmare since.

* * *

The routine continued for the days, weeks, months and years the followed.

Every night, Peter would allow himself to visit Katniss' dreams, at times making himself visible and at times merely to observe. Katniss grew and matured and the dreams she shared with him were a reflection of the various experiences her humanity allowed her to have.

When her little sister Prim was born, Katniss' dreams became centered on the child.

Prim, the little girl born to Deborah and Joseph, looked monumentally different from Katniss with her blonde crown of hair, pale pearl-white skin and sapphire blue eyes. For awhile, Peter was concerned that the difference would bother Katniss, with her being aware that she was technically not related to the child by blood. But it didn't seem to faze her as she joined her mother and father in welcoming the child into the world.

Peter remembered the first words Katniss' shared with her little sister, grasping the baby's hand and patting the soft head of thin hair lightly. "You look just like an angel."

Peter smiled, somewhat proud that his appearance had caused Katniss to generalize angels as blonde-haired and blue-eyed, but he sensed in the airy wonder of Katniss' voice that she would be okay, now that she had even just a semblance of an angel back in her life in the form of her new sister. Peter wondered if his Father had given the child such traits just to play with him, but he doubted his father had time for such trivial matters.

As the child grew and as Katniss grew with it, Peter delighted in sharing in Katniss' dreams of tea parties and balls and endless meadows and fields of flowers all to frolic and relish in. He watched silently and patiently as those dreams began to unfold in real life, Katniss finally being able to share a friendship that was more than just superficial – a friendship bound by family.

Prim, Peter decided, was just as charming a girl as Katniss, teetering around in her little toddler feet. He understood from Katniss' dreams that Katniss enjoyed teaching her sister how to crawl, walk, run and eventually climb, although Prim didn't seem to have the particular affinity for it.

And for awhile, Katniss dreamed of Prim, and the woods, and climbing, and of her Peeta, when Peter allowed it. Peter dreamed of Katniss' happiness to come.

Eventually, her sessions with Cinna ceased to be necessary and Katniss was living the life Peter had always wanted her to live, and a sense of accomplishment washed over him. And though something empty still lay in the depths of his being, he found contentment at watching Katniss grow. He dared even say that he was _happy._ He laughed at the thought – actually coming to terms with never being able to return to his home. He knew somehow that it wasn't entirely true, but Katniss was as good as a distraction from the fact as anything could be.

Things had become more complicated however, when Katniss entered middle school. Concerns weren't just about being happy anymore and as Katniss' life became more plagued with standards of perfection humans would so foolishly impose on themselves despite their obvious imperfection, it was only natural that Katniss would be affected, albeit quite unwillingly.

Peter had always wondered why humans were so self-destructive, even in their younger years. As he walked through the hallways of the structure Katniss would call her school for a few years, he couldn't help but feel a little disgust at how materialistic and shallow human children could be, yet Peter found pride in the fact that Katniss didn't subject herself to what the mainstream craved. It was unbearable to watch as the mortals her age clad themselves scantily and subjected themselves to such immoral behavior.

Throughout Katniss' developing years, it had come to Peter's attention that although Katniss was a nice child, she wasn't very popular. Ever so often he would sense keen interest from her peers on her background, and it took him a while to decipher that the Everdeens were a very well off family. He felt like warning Katniss that children only wanted to befriend her because of her social status, as absurd as that was – Katniss had much more to offer than that but these children saw no sense is such acquired values. But it seemed as though Katniss knew of that herself, steering clear of what people deemed as the 'popular crowd' and maintaining only a close friendship with a child she had met much earlier on, a girl named Margaret Undersee, or Madge as Katniss would call her. The two seemed inseparable in their quiet, but demure ways and Peter was thankful that she chose not to subject herself to such poisonous human influences. In turn, however, her wise decision dealt her a hand of backstabbing and social ostracism. Oh how mankind had lost its path.

Peter had little to worry about aside from that, and even still, it didn't seem to bother Katniss at all, being gossiped about and envied by her peers. The females were the worst, Peter noted, but Katniss had a certain aura to her that prevented them from going anywhere further than the occasional murmur against her. 'She has no idea the effect she has.' Peter mused to himself as he followed her to her classes each day. Katniss seemed just as down to earth as she had always been as a child, and he liked to think that he was a part of her admirable traits.

Of course, it wasn't just the females that seemed to take a keen interest in the child Peter had become quite protective of. On more than one occasion he caught males trailing after the dark-haired girl, probably with intentions of speaking to her, but something about Katniss' icy eyes always seemed to deter them. He understood the appeal Katniss' had to a certain point, he guessed. She was taller than the average child of her age, her skin smooth, clear and just the perfect healthy shade of tan when most had to deal with the scars that pubescence had afforded them. She was lean, but a bit willowy, and Peter had known from experience that Katniss was what most humans would find _attractive_. He himself had acknowledged her beauty, even as a baby and it should have flattered him that others agreed, but for some reason it didn't.

Then it occurred to him that these boys were just like any other mortals, looking for potential mates, but in this day and age, Peter noted, the notion of mates and monogamous love which had once been popular in the human ancestry was now outdated, and he knew better than to think the boys had any other intention than a quick lay. Peter felt protective – that was the reason for the lingering feeling of discomfort at the interest the males were displaying for Katniss. That was it. Nothing else. And he knew that Katniss wasn't one to lay herself down for preying males easily. She was better than that.

But still, the amount of attention Katniss was receiving bothered him and a nagging feeling in his mind persisted as a boy had gathered the courage to ask her out one day. To Peter's unexpected relief, however, Katniss seemed oblivious and disinterested. Peter eyed the poor boy as his shoulder slumped, somewhat sorry for his rejection, but all too happy that Katniss had denied him. He reasoned that the boy would have been a bad influence in Katniss' growth and went on about his business, following after her, just as he had done for the last thirteen years. Katniss' disinterest in the opposite gender quelled his discomfort for the most part, and things didn't seem so bad after all.

The changes in Katniss' life reflected in her dreams, and soon Peter found himself sitting in her dreams in study hall with her in the workings of her mind as words, numbers and facts danced threateningly around her, solid representations of her subject material materializing one after the other. He would almost find the situation hilarious be it not for how irritated the teen Katniss seemed to be at the topic of her dream. "Peeta, it's not funny." She would say. Even in her older years and in her dreams, the nickname stuck. And Peter would just shrug in reply, reveling at how preoccupied humans were with memorization, quantities and calculations, even in dreams. It all seemed so trivial to him.

"I'm sorry, Katniss." He replied casually, his dream form just leaning back in a chair Katniss' mind had conjured up. He had become accustomed to the mortal's way of speaking over the years and it was much easier to fit into Katniss' dreams as he spoke so. "If it's any consolation, I don't understand a single thing either."

Katniss laughed at her angel friend's frankness. "Peeta, you always know exactly what to say." She nudged his form, and Peter smiled sincerely at her, finding now that her laughter, in dreams and in real life was like music to his ears. "Think you can slip me the answers like you did back in pre-school?" She joked.

"I would if I could." Peter winked back, but sensing that the night was coming to an end, he stood to make his leave. "Don't worry, you won't need them."

Katniss woke up from the dream, refreshed and invigorated. It was dreams like those that seemed the most real, and she was thankful, despite everything that she still had even just a semblance of her childhood friend in her memory.

And it was dreams like those that Peter direly missed only a few years after when things started to so drastically change.

"Peeta, do you think I'm pretty?" She asked once in a dream as she sat on a field of flowers, picking at one's petals and scattering them carelessly on the ground beneath her. The question had caught Peter off-guard as he trailed behind her, this dream being one of those where he allowed himself to be seen.

"Why are you asking?" He approached the topic carefully. Over the years, he had always thought Katniss to be a mortal who wasn't as concerned with her looks as others. At the age of sixteen, she was one of the few who had chosen not to cake her skin with the chemicals that disgusted him so. He was thankful for that because they would have only taken away from her naturally-given beauty. Though he wasn't going to go ahead and tell her that – for some reason, the thought of telling her that bothered him and he suddenly felt a bout of insecurity surround his being.

Katniss laughed as he plucked another petal. "It's nothing." She lay down on the soft grass that her mind had created and sighed. "I guess I shouldn't be asking you, should I? You're perfect. Absolutely beautiful."

Peter stared down at the girl below him as he sat down beside her, his form only a few centimeters from her head. He craned his head down as he watched as the eyes of Katniss' dream form stared intently at him. His breath hitched as he observed his own reflection from the silvery grey of her eyes. Only in dreams did he see his reflection, and reflected in her eyes was evidently what the child saw of him. She was right – he _was_ perfect, and that was the problem. Because over the years, his idea of beauty had changed so much, and perfect didn't seem sufficient anymore. Because what Katniss didn't know was that the only thing Peter considered beautiful anymore was she herself.

He turned away from her abruptly, lest he get lost in the pools of grey that seemed so inviting at the moment. Her dreams were starting to get overwhelming. "You're fine just the way you are, Katniss." Peter said, decidedly. It wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear, but Peter couldn't bring himself to say anything more, not for her sake, but for his own.

"Thank you, Peeta." She closed her eyes and succumbed to a dreamless sleep for the rest of the night, allowing Peter to contemplate what exactly in the world had gotten into him.

The next day, Peter found out why Katniss had been so unsure of herself the previous night. It had dawned on him when Katniss made an abrupt u-turn from her usual route, dragging her friend Madge and the invisible Peter along with her in her hurried tracks.

"What the heck is wrong with you, Kat?" Madge asked as she pried her wrist from the girl's tight grip and shook it, trying to rid herself of the pain.

"It's him. He's in the hallway." Katniss whispered, grasping her books tight around her arms and breathing deeply. Peter found himself craning his head at the same time Madge did to get a look around the corner at whom exactly Katniss was fidgeting over.

"Cato?" Madge asked, her voice quiet and a bit surprised. "_Him?"_ Her tone was incredulous.

Peter's eyes settled on a tall boy making conversation with a teacher about his grades, most likely, and Peter readily agreed with Madge's tone of surprise. Peter had seen the guy around but hadn't actually paid any attention to him. The only boys Peter paid any attention to were those who expressed interest in Katniss, and he was obviously not one of them, being part of the popular crowd and much too pre-occupied with sports and the like despite only transferring a week before. He couldn't fathom why Katniss even spared a single thought for the boy, much less a keen interest in him. That was until his eyes trained themselves on the boy's features.

_Blonde hair, blue eyes and skin as pale as snow._

He looked just like him, and Peter found himself gulping at the resemblance. He turned back to Katniss, whose face was now flushed a bright red as she nodded shyly.

"Really?" Madge asked, raising her brow. "I didn't think you'd be the type to fall for a jock." She wore a smirk as she nudged Katniss. "Love at first sight?"

Katniss furrowed her brows. "He looks like someone I used to know." She answered, stone faced and her tone flat, but the same red still etched on her skin.

"Sure." Madge smiled knowingly. "Well, I've got to get to class. See you at lunch." She winked and headed off.

Peter didn't know what to feel. Should he have been flattered that Katniss had picked out _his_ features in particular as criteria for a mate? Actually, a part of him did feel that way, and a warm sensation at the pit of his stomach threatened to come up and envelop him. Did Katniss find his features _attractive?_ He paused to look at the girl who stood transfixed as she peeked through the corner of the hall at the boy. He shook the thought from his head. Regardless of what Katniss found attractive, she was far too young to be thinking of those things. He made it a point to drill that into her head the next chance he could in her dreams.

But as Katniss rounded the corner and bumped into the large jock in an unexpected collision, he knew that later on in her dreams would be a little too late for that.

Katniss' books and papers fell to the floor and she scrambled to get them back, her blush intensifying at the embarrassing situation she found herself in.

"Oh, hey." The large boy looked startled at the sudden obstacle in front of him. "Sorry 'bout that." He knelt down and helped Katniss with her books. Peter found himself standing between the two in a futile effort to keep them apart as his form went right through the large boy.

"Sorry, I'm just a bit clumsy." Katniss voice was quiet and controlled, trying not to fall apart from embarrassment. She made no move to make eye contact with the boy whose eyes were now trained on her flushed face as a smile graced his face. Her breath caught as her fingers suddenly made contact with Cato's as they reached for the same piece of paper. Katniss retracted her hand in a reflexive response and Cato picked up the paper in its place. They both stood up and Katniss gingerly reached for the books that were still in Cato's possession.

"I don't think I've seen you around before."

"Of course you have! She sits in front of you in history, you buffoon." Peter found himself spitting the words at the boy, kicking Cato's form, only to have his leg pass right through it.

Cato smiled, the books still held securely tucked between his arm and his torso, away from Katniss' reach. "I'm Cato, just transferred." He extended his hand for her to shake.

"Don't take it, Katniss." Peter bore his eyes into Katniss' skull, willing for her to hear him. He contemplated making himself visible, even for just a moment – anything to stop the current interaction in its tracks. "Don't you dare."

Katniss just stared at Cato's extended hand, speechless and unable to move, so instead, Cato took her hand in his on his accord.

"Damnit!" Peter found himself cursing, only to cover his mouth only moments after. When did such vulgar language enter the vocabulary of a higher being? He grunted to himself, frustrated at his inability to do anything right so far.

"Katniss." She replied lamely, still partially stunned as she stared at their now joined hands, feeling the roughness of Cato's hand in hers and gulping. "I'm Katniss."

Cato laughed. "Well, _Katniss_. Would you like me to walk you to your next class?" He bent down so their eyes met and their faces were only inches apart.

Peter couldn't do anything. Even if Cato didn't know it, they were heading to the same class anyway. He silently wished for a miracle. "Don't do it, don't do it."

Katniss nodded swiftly but shyly, causing her forehead to bump on Cato's. "Ow." She let out as she rubbed her forehead. Cato laughed as he rubbed his own and Katniss couldn't help but smile back.

"So where to, fair maiden?" Cato asked teasingly still rubbing the bump on his head.

"I've got history – same as you." Katniss answered, only for her eyes to widen in realization at what she had just said. She had basically admitted to knowing his schedule. She mentally slapped herself and it was all Peter could do to hope that Cato found her weird after this. It was far from what Peter usually wanted and it was not usual for him to wish such horrid things for Katniss, but if it stopped her from falling for the large blonde boy it would be a welcome occurrence.

"Well then, let's go!" Cato thought nothing of it and led the girl whose hand was still in his to their room.

Things became somewhat unbearable after that for Peter.

Despite not even knowing Katniss prior to the encounter, Cato seemed to take a keen interest in the reserved girl, going so far as to invite her and her friend to sit with his friends during their lunch period. Needless to say, it was an uncomfortable setting, making Madge squirm on more than one occasion at the shallow topics being discussed by the girls who only seemed to have makeup and clothes on their minds. It did not get past Peter's attention that Katniss was receiving the brunt of most of the girls' death glares and the haughty look that one named Glimmer sent a particularly nervous shiver down his spine. She didn't seem concerned at Katniss' presence at all and instead laughed condescendingly at her presence. This did not escape Madge's notice either as she wrung a handkerchief in her hands.

But Katniss didn't seem to notice at all, her attention solely centered on the boy who held her hand possessively under the table. She was smiling, happy as ever and for some reason Peter's heart felt heavy – unbearably heavy. Something about seeing the intimacy between the two mortals irked him and he found himself looking at his own hand, suddenly missing the contact and the warmth he used to so easily share with the child he had come to know so well. He had always thought that as long as Katniss was happy, he would be too, and seeing her smile so pure and so sincere right now told him she _was _happy. So why wasn't he?

That night, in Katniss' dreams, she didn't seem to need him. She was in a meadow with the same flowers that were so familiar and inviting, just as usual as in most of her previous dreams, but in his stead was the boy, Cato, cradling her head in his lap as they talked and chatted about nothing in particular. There was something innately wrong with his unnoticed presence in her dream and it felt like he was suddenly intruding in the most intimate of moments. Tonight, he would not be in Katniss' dreams and she did not need him in them. She had her own angel now, an angel she could touch, feel and talk to – an angel that was not just a figment of her imagination. Peter hadn't felt this hollow in a long time.

As the days and weeks progressed, it became apparent that Cato was more than just a friend to Katniss when in one dream Peter found himself paying witness to a sight he was definitely not prepared for.

_A kiss._

That was all it was.

_Kisses_ – they were a strange form of affection that Peter never understood. Mouths, as far as he was concerned, were made for talking, eating, tasting. The way they were designed made them perfect for those activities. Whatever came over humans to resort to such a barbaric form of affection went far past what he could fathom and quite frankly he found the entire exchange detestable and disgusting.

But why was it then, that as he sat from afar, invisible and hidden from view, that he could not pry his eyes away from the scene that transpired in front of him? Katniss, in a white flowy oversized t-shirt that she always wore when she was alone at home entangled in the arms of a boy she only knew from school. There was something about the haunting resemblance the boy bore to his own form that sent chills down Peter's spine and he could not help but bring a hand to his own lips, trying as hard as he could to imagine how it would feel to have Katniss' own on them.

He knew that it was wrong to have such thoughts, and he wondered how such thoughts had come over him in the first place. Such burning desire started erupting within him and he found himself turning away from the scene, ashamed and disgusted at his own weakness. What had gotten into him?

This was _wrong_ – wrong in so many levels. He thought back to the last time a higher being so much as dared to pay an interest to the lowly mortal creatures that were the humans. A brother of his, one that had been banished and never to return had fallen for a mortal and was smitten with her. They had bonded in ways that were not meant to be. It had resulted disastrously and their offspring, the _Nephilim_, as the people of that time had once called them had wrought havoc and destruction upon mankind which brought about the deadliest of deluges. It was _unnatural_, and _unthinkable_, and he had detested, even so much as abhorred his brothers that dared even mention the prospect of copulating with a mortal. He had felt so strongly against such matters then, but why was it then that now, the only thing that plagued his mind was Katniss' lips on his own and his arms ravaging her in ways that he would not even dare utter?

And why was it then that when he turned back to the scene, he desperately wished it was he who had Katniss in his arms, clinging to her desperately for some type of release? How low exactly had he fallen?

And it was all he could do to watch as her dreams turned into reality, as so many of her other dreams had. Suddenly, the mortal saying 'Dreams come true' felt like an enormous pile of bull droppings to the angel as the desperate feelings began to overwhelm him yet again.

The days that followed did not make things any easier to bear.

"How far exactly are you planning on going with this, Kat?" Peter heard Madge ask Katniss as she picked out a dress for her next date with Cato. "I mean, you don't even wear dresses. It must be something big if you're going all out on this one."

Katniss blushed. "Cato invited me to his house. This Friday. His parents will be out." Her voice was quiet, tense and unsure. "Do you think he-?"

Madge's eyes widened, and Peter could feel the signs of impending danger. "You can't be serious." Madge laid her hand on Katniss' shoulder as she turned the girl around from her examination of the chiffon dress she held in her hands. "Don't you think you should at least stop to evaluate things? You've only been dating for what, a month? Two?"

Peter furrowed his brows. What were they talking about?

"I don't know Madge. I don't want to seem _slow_." Katniss started biting her nails, a habit she had picked up when she was nervous. "It's all Glimmer and the rest seem to be talking about and I don't want to disappoint Cato."

"Are you fucking kidding me Kat!" Peter winced at the tone her friend took. It had been the first time he heard the girl swear. "Would you stop thinking about others for one damn minute and stop to think about yourself? Are you even ready for this?"

Katniss pried herself away from Madge's hold and glared at the girl. "I _love_ him Madge. What else is there to do? It's not such a big deal." Peter could almost swear he felt his heart, if he had one, stop. _She loved him?_ It ached even just to repeat the words in his mind. "He's been waiting for forever. I can't just say no to him now." Katniss reasoned.

"It's your _virginity_ Katniss. It _is_ a big deal." Madge's voice was hardened and unyielding, and Peter's eyes widened. Was that what they had been discussing? Was Katniss considering offering up her _chastity_ to this boy? Of all things and of all people, why this? And why _him_? "You don't even know how many girls he's been with and you're ready to throw all that away for a silly crush!"

"It's not _just_ a silly crush, Madge." Katniss was now in tears. "I love him, and I'm sure he loves me too." She held the dress tightly in her arms now, the fabric scrunching up in the pressure. "I just want to feel loved. I want to feel beautiful, or _pretty_ or even half as good as those girls feel about themselves. When I'm around Cato he reminds me of-" She couldn't continue. How was she supposed to tell her friend that Cato reminded her of the only person who made her feel good enough about herself and that that person just happened to be an angel that left her a long time ago. She'd sound crazy. "I just don't want to be left again. Not again, not ever."

"God damnit Kat, if he leaves you over a simple thing like that, he's not even _worth_ it!" Madge tried to shake Katniss into realizing that, while all Peter could do was stand and watch, knowing full well that all Katniss' insecurities had rooted from his abandonment of her. When would he stop hurting the girl whom he had grown to care for so deeply? "You deserve better, Katniss."

Katniss slapped Madge's hands away from her. "No I don't Madge! I don't deserve a damn thing! Nobody's _ever_ wanted me. Do you know how it felt to wait around for anybody to pick me up from that damn orphanage when I was little? Do you know how it feels to be so utterly alone every night clinging to stupid dreams that will never _ever_ be real?" Katniss was frantic, the tears now streaming down her face and the dress she held now strewn across the dressing room floor. Madge would never understand, but Peter did. He had thought he was helping Katniss, when all he was doing was making it harder for her. "Cato makes me feel_ wanted_ for once in my life Madge, and it isn't just some silly dream anymore."

Madge was silent, a pained look on her face, wishing there was more she could do to convince the girl she was wrong. "Oh Katniss."

"I'm sorry Madge." Katniss was breathing heavily, surprised at her outburst. She picked up the dress and wiped the tears off her eyes with her other hand. "Thanks though." She gave her friend a pat on the shoulder and exited the room, bringing the dress to the register.

Katniss was unreachable for the nights after that – her mind shut in a dreamless slumber of darkness and nothing else. Peter wanted so desperately to tell her that she _was_ wanted and that he _hadn't _left her, but he didn't know how, now that Katniss had effectively built a wall between them. What exactly was he doing? He shouldn't have felt so strongly about a mortal and he had no right to butt into her business and what exactly she chose to do with the mortal boy that held her affections.

And then it was Friday and there was nothing left he could do. If there was any occasion that he wished he could just truly disappear and hide himself from any chance of witnessing what was to conspire it would be now, as Katniss sat on her boyfriend's bed after dinner and more than a few drinks on Cato's part, nervously awaiting his return from whatever it was he had decided to do.

Peter looked at the girl who sat patiently, biting her nails and fidgeting, obviously uncomfortable in the dress she donned for the occasion. For a mortal, she was _beautiful_ – more beautiful than anything he had witnessed in his being, Peter thought, and he cursed himself silently at not having the courage to tell her so earlier. It might have spared her the little bout of insecurity which resulted in the situation that she now found herself in. He stood beside her, unknown to her as he continued to survey her form.

Her hair was down, flowing freely down to her waist where her natural waves curled gently as they hit the bed just slightly. Her hair had grown and so had she, Peter couldn't help but notice. What used to be the chubby cheeks of child that he would so often play with were now the define lines that so softly slopped into the 'v' that was her perfectly shaped chin. Her wide eyes were unchanging and the silver depths of her irises seemed more beautiful now in the dim light than they ever had been. Her shoulders were exposed, and Peter noted the small goose bumps that formed on her skin. He wondered if she was cold and suddenly craved to be able to warm her up in his embrace the way he had always done when she was little, but somehow, his craving now was different as his eyes caught sight of the gentle slopes of her curves where there used to be flat planes of flesh. His eyes lingered on her breasts, and he could have sworn he felt heat creep onto his cheeks, but for some reason he could not turn away. He inwardly wished that Katniss had chosen a less sheer dress that evening as the supple peaks of her chest sent uncomfortable chills down his spine. He took in a sharp inhale as he calmed himself down, turning away and burying his face in his hands.

At this moment, he could not blame the mortal Cato for wanting someone as fine as his Katniss. She was indeed as close to perfect as mortals could come to, and if he, a higher being, albeit severely weakened, had trouble keeping his emotions in check, he could not expect someone as daft a boy as Cato to be able to resist. The only comfort he found was that this was what Katniss wanted. She wanted _Cato_, not him, or not anybody else. If she chose to give her chastity away to the boy it was her decision, but Peter couldn't help but feel resentment toward the boy. And he couldn't stop the thought form escaping his lips_, "Why not me?"_

He laughed. Of course he knew the answer. They could never be, that was why. And for the first time in a long while, he cursed his own being.

Cato entered just then, two glasses filled with what looked to be some type of liquor in his hands. "Sorry I took so long. Here." He handed Katniss a glass and Katniss cradled it gingerly in her fingers, swirling the liquid carefully, unsure of how exactly to proceed.

"Thanks." She took a sip and bit back a wince at the bitter taste of the liquid before swallowing. She forced a smile and looked up at the tall man who took a seat beside her, effectively downing his own drink in a single gulp.

"You look beautiful tonight." Cato whispered into her ear after he'd finished, drawing her closer and maneuvering the girl onto his lap. He took the glass from Katniss and settled it on his bedside table. Katniss squirmed uncomfortably at the feeling of the man's recognizable hardness beneath her. He grunted in a rather unappealing way and tucked the long hair that draped over Katniss' shoulder over her back, exposing her neck and collarbone and ravishing her with sloppy kisses. "Katniss."

Katniss merely furrowed her brows and closed her eyes in concentration, trying as hard as she could to feel the love in the boy's actions as his hands felt up her back. All that Cato was though, was impatient. Peter fought hard not look but failed. What was he doing, watching the two? His eyes fixed themselves on Katniss', boring into her, concerned and terrified for the girl at the same time.

"Say my name." Cato said roughly as he pushed the girl onto the bed, pinning both her hands above her and nipping roughly against the skin of her neck. "You want me so fucking bad, don't you?" He grinded against her, hiking up the train of her dress exposing her bare thighs and Peter felt his entire being grow cold.

"Cato, wait." Katniss let out, surprised at the boy's roughness. "Ah!" Cato had brought a hand up to her waist beneath her dress, trailing up and finally clasping at her bare breast from underneath. "Stop, please." Katniss closed her eyes tightly, trying desperately to break free from Cato's grasp on her hands.

"Shh, it'll be alright. I'll make you feel good, don't worry." Cato breathed into her collar as he grazed her skin with his teeth and squeezed, making Katniss wince. "I'll make you scream my name in pleasure. That's what you want right? You've always wanted me."

Peter could do nothing. It was evident now that this was _not_ what Katniss wanted and he stood desperately looking for a way to help the poor girl who was now shedding tears profusely.

"Cato, please no, I'm not ready. I don't-" Cato silenced the girl with his mouth in a rough kiss, very much unlike all the soft ones the two had shared before. The boy was hurting her, Peter realized, and he prayed fervently for a way to be able to stop what was happening. Cato, however, had every intention of continuing what he had started.

"Get off her, you beast!" Peter found himself screaming, unheard and unnoticed. His breath was heavy and a familiar dampness streamed down his face from his eyes as he looked on helplessly at the girl who was being held against her will. Her pain was his, a thousand fold. "Don't you see you're hurting her!"

"Stop!" Katniss screamed, kneeing the boy in the stomach, causing him to topple over in pain at the impact. Katniss got up, gathering what was left of her now tattered dress in an effort to flee. Cato grabbed her leg before she could leave. "Let me go, you bastard!" Katniss kicked furiously, the tears now streaming down her face as she desperately fought to break free.

"Not until I get what I want." Cato's smile was wicked, the red in his eyes telling Peter that the boy was not himself. The look in Katniss' eyes was pure fear as she struggled against his grasp, finally being able to wriggle herself free when the alcohol overcame Cato, causing him to groan lamely as he collapsed. Peter was all too thankful as Katniss ran out the door and out of the house as fast as she could, leaving her shoes behind.

Katniss was a good distance away before she collapsed by the side of a large tree. It was past midnight and she had nowhere else to go. She cried, and cried. It was all she could do. She really had no idea where she was at this point, surrounded by an unfamiliar neighborhood, barefoot and bruised in a torn up dress. Peter frowned, a deep searing pain emanating from the depths of his being as he sat down beside the girl who buried her face in her hands. She was tired, and broken. She leaned against the tree and stared up at the sky above her, her gaze unfocused and hollow. What left her lips afterwards surprised Peter.

"Peeta, I'm sorry." She whispered, her eyes still trained on the sky. "I'm horrible aren't I?" She asked no one in particular. She laughed at herself cynically as she wrung a few blades of grass between her fingers. "He didn't really love me, did he? I don't think anybody ever will." The tears kept coming. "You still want me, right? Even if I'm not the innocent little girl you used to know." Her voice was pleading, and Peter's heart wrenched as if she had just pulled hard on its strings. "When you come back, you'll still want me, right?" her voice was weak and defeated as she surrendered herself to sleep, suddenly tired of it all. "I'll always be your Katniss, right?"

"Katniss." Peter whispered into her ear, as softly and as gently as he could. "I will always be your Peeta." He willed himself visible as he shifted so his shoulder cradled the young girl's head. Her warmth and proximity was intoxicating and it felt as if it were ages since he had gotten to feel her as close against him as he did now. Even in her dreams, nothing compared to being able to hold her feeling the true warmth of her presence. It did strange things to his system, but he fought them back, knowing that it was neither the time of place for self-realization. "We need to leave now, Katniss." He whispered, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

His breath hitched when she replied softly. "Just five more minutes." Her hand found his on the grass as she laced her fingers between his. And he gave her, and himself, those five minutes.

Katniss was in a deep slumber when Peter woke up, realizing that it had been much longer than five minutes. He smiled when he saw that their hands were still intertwined and that Katniss was leaning into his frame as she slept. He took the girl into his arms in a familiar style as he unfurled his wings, lifting her up with his renewed strength. It was early enough that no one would notice a seemingly floating girl as Peter carried her from where they were back to the open window of her home. She felt warm against him, and Peter couldn't help but be brought back to the first time he had ever held the girl in his arms like he did now. She had fallen that day from a tree, and tonight she had fallen from a much higher perch. He found comfort that during both times, it was he that was there to pick her up from her fall, and as he lay the sleeping girl in her bed that night, he admitted to himself the origins of his fretfulness, worry, envy, and admiration for the girl.

_He loved her_.

He loved Katniss, a being far from his own nature, a mortal and but a fleeting grain of existence in comparison to himself. She was perfectly imperfect, and yet she was his and he was hers.

And as the familiar orange light of the sun alerted him to the start of a new day, their rays casting silent shadows against the planes of Katniss' perfect face, he wondered if there was a chance she'd love him back. But he knew very well he had no right to ask anything of this poor girl whom he had taken so much from already. He was a selfish being, even hoping for any prospect of redemption after all the sins he had committed, against her and against his father, but at this point, he couldn't have cared less.

He was a fallen angel, and he had fallen for this girl. There was nothing more, and nothing less.

Anything else ceased to matter, and as he brought his frame closer to the face that had captured him and his affections, he let his selfishness get the best of him, finally succumbing to the nagging craving his new found imperfection afforded him.

His lips brushed hers for a moment, just a fleeting moment of contact and he was undone.

Kissing wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

**Notes:**

Sorry for the late update, I just got back from Hong Kong, where I got caught up with fangirling because I actually shared a floor in the same hotel with the very band I went to go see in concert. It was a rollercoaster 5 days and I actually got to meet some of them, so needless to say I was a bit star struck, even after I got back from vacation. I had to unpack and make a blog post so I wouldn't forget a thing that transpired, so you can sort of see why my stories sort of took a backburner to the entire thing, but hey, I'm back with a new chapter so yay!

Smitten Peter is Smitten. This chapter was a little bit of a pain in the ass to right because it was hard to transition from one part of Katniss' life to the other, but it was necessary. I'm sorry that I had to put Cato in here, but he was a monumental plot element to Peter discovering yet another part of his possible humanity. Dun dun dunnnn.

Writing Peter's internal conflict, however, was more fun that it should have been. I always have fun writing internal dialogues where there's a 'I shouldn't but it feels so good' type feeling to them. Haha, I hope you guys got that from my writing.

I'm sorry Prim doesn't really play a part in this part of the story, but that was one part of her life and we have to move on, right? Don't worry, there are more opportunities to explore that relationship in the future, and hopefully a lot more as well, as Gale Hawthorne will finally be making his appearance in the next chapter!

If you can't wait and are craving for a little more of my writing, why not go ahead and check out my other story, **Music and the Beast**. It's a bit different and has a different tone to it, but I ensure you that you'll enjoy it.

Anyways, thanks for reading! **Review and Subscribe!**


End file.
